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THE 



GREAT BONANZA. 



ILLUSTRATED NARRATIVE 



OF 



ADVENTURE AND DISCOVERT 



IN 



GOLD MINING, SILVER MINING, AMONG THE RAFTSMEN, IN THE 

OIL REGIONS, WHALING, HUNTING, FISHING, 

AND FIGHTING. 



BY 



OLIVER OPTIC, R. M. BALLANTYNE, CAPT. CHAS. W. HALL, 
C. E. BISHOP, FRANK H. TAYLOR, 



And other popular Writers. 



WITH TWO HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS, 

By W. L. SHEPPARD, FRANK MERRILL, H. L. STEPHENS, MISS L. B. HUMPHREY, 
And other well-known Artists. 



BOSTON : 

LEE & SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
NEW YORK: 

LEE, SHEPARD & DILLINGHAM. 
1876. 



S:;flpgrtgttt; 

^tt Si Sf)£p»rti. 

1875» 



.Gr7!7 



"K6iu.(uH^ 



LT"^ 




^L 2 4 1967 




•iCAMBRmBE. MASS.J. 




CONTENTS. 



THE GREAT BONANZA Capt. C. W. Hall. 

1. The Runaways. 

2. The Fortunes of the Runaways. 

Wiih 6 Illustrations by Frank Merrill. 

VACATION IN PETROLIA C. E. Bishop. . . 

1. Boring for Oil. 

2. Boating Oil. — Pond Freshets. 

3. Ups and Downs of the Oil Business. 

4. Pumping Oil. — "Torpedoing" the Well. 

5. Marketing Oil. — A Fiery Freshet. 

6. Prospecting for Territory. — Finding "The Belt." 

7. The Flag-and- Windmill Well No. 2. — Conclusion. 

With 44 Illustrations by Frank Merrill and others. 

AMONG THE RAFTSMEN Frank H. Taylor. 



1. Making Rafts. 

2. Rafting. 

3. Down the Creek. 



4. Running the Rapids. 

5. On the River. 

6. Foraging. — Conclusion. 

With 35 Illiistratioiis by H. L. Stephens. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH Justin Dale.. 

1. The March. — The Camp. — The Lecture-Course. 

2. The Saints in the Valleys in the Mountains. 

3. The Shinomos, or the Artists of Nature. 

4. The Unknown River. 

5. Some Noble Red Men. 

6. Last Days. — Farewell, Old Friends. 

With 26 Illustrations by W. L. Sluppard and others. 

GETTING ON SEA LEGS An Old Salt. 

with 5 Illustrations by Frajih Me^-rill. 

WHALING ON THE CROZETS An Old Salt. 

with 2 Illustrations. 

ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN An Old Salt. 

With Full-page Illustration. 

GOLD MINING Chas. A. Hoyt. 

With 6 Illustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey. 



23 



71 



10- 



146 
157 
163 
169 



o CONTENTS. 

SILVER MINING Chas. A. Hoyt. . 

With 7 Illustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey. 

A LONDON FIREMAN'S "NIGHT OF IT." R. M. Ballajiiyne. 

With s Illustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey. 

SARDINES Geo. W. Fowle. . 

Where they come from, and how they are caught. 

With 7 Illustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey. 

ICE BOATING W. P. Duncan. . 

With 3 Illustrations. 

A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID Oliver Optic. . . 

with 7 Illustrations. 

Oliver Optic. . . 



PAGE 

. 174 
. i8i 
.187 

. 194 
. 198 

. 204 



YACHTS AND YACHTING. 

with 3 Illustrations. 

LITTLE BUILDERS Samuel Burnham. . . 209 

I. Beavers. 2. Termites. 

With 9 Illustrations. 

ON THE WAR PATH y. H. W. 216 

With an Illustration. 

A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. . . y. H. W. _ 222 

With 6 Illustrations. 



BAFFLED REVENGE . . y. H. W. 

With 2 Illustrations. 



. 231 



THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. . . T. W. Higginso7i. . . 235 

With 3 Illustrations by Frank Merrill and others. 

VIENNA Maij Granger Chase. . 239 

With 6 Illustrations. 

ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. . Capt. C. W. Hall. . . 245 

With s Illustrations. 

REMINISCENCES OF WEST AFRICAN 

LIFE Edward Diisseault, Jr. 252 

With 2 Illustrations. 

ASHES OF ROSES Geo. M. Baker. . . .257 

With 6 Illustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey. 




THE 



GREAT BONANZA. 



BY 



CAPT. CHARLES W. HALL, 



AUTHOR OF "ADRIFT IN THE ICE FIELDS," ETC. 



I» ART I, 



THE RUNAWAYS. 



IT was nine o'clock, and the bell of the Riv- 
erport Academy had summoned its motley 
throng of boys and girls from their favorite 
play-ground, the sandy knoll in front. Mr. 
Stone, the principal, seated himself at his 
desk on the high platform and struck his little 
bell sharply: instantly the girls ceased their 
smiles, their flirting of gay head-ribbons and 
glossy curls, and the furtive whispers, which 
sought to finish the communication inter- 
rupted by the school-bell; the boys braced 
themselves sharply back in their seats, folded 
their arms, and were silent. 

" Boys, answer to your names," said the 
principal, as the lady assistant opened the re- 
gister, and in clear, distinct tones read off the 
surnames of the boy scholars. 

"Appleton, Ames, Amory, Bearse, Barry, 
Boyd — Boyd .? — " 

The first five names had been promptly an- 
swered by the monosyllable "Here;" but as 
the principal heard the sixth name repeated, 



without an answer, he frowned angrily, and 
made a gesture ; the reader understood, and 
all was silence. 

" How long has Edward Boyd been absent, 
Miss Nye ? " 

"This is the third half day, sir," answered 
the lady. 

" Is your cousin sick, Amory.?" 

The question was asked of a tall, pale lad, 
the son of the guardian of the absent scholar, 
— for Edward Boyd was an orphan, the only- 
son of a sea captain, who had amassed much 
wealth only to die, leaving his motherless boy 
to the guardianship of Squire Amory — a 
grasping and unamiable man. It Avas well 
known among the villagers that the dead fa- 
ther's wealth had been unable to secure either 
comfort or a happy home for his child among 
his envious relations. 

" He started for school yesterday morning 
with Sam Nevins, and hasn't been home since, 
sir," said Stephen Amory, with a slight sneer. 
" Father thinks he has gone to see his grand- 
father at Concord." 

At that moment came a sharp knock at the 
outer door: the monitor answered the sum- 
mons, and soon returned, followed by one of 
the constables of the town, who spoke a few 
words to the master in a grave tone. Mr. 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



Stone paled, then cleared his voice, and ad- 
dressed the scholars : — 

"I am sorry to learn that Edward Bojd 
and Sam Nevins, who played truant yesterday, 
were seen in a boat at the Old Harbor at the 
time, by a fisherman, going outside. This 
morning their boat was found adrift, with an 
old suit of clothes in the bottom, and Mrs. 
•Nevins has identified them as belonging to her 
son. It is feared that he went in bathing, and 
that some sad accident has occurred, in which 
both boys have lost their lives." 

The silence for an instant was awful in its 
completeness ; then a shriek was heard on the 
girls' side, and Laura Amory, a quiet, delicate 
girl of twelve, fainted in her seat, and all was 
bustle and confusion for a moment, while tears 
and sobs testified to the sorrow of the children 
for their lost playmates. Miss Nye, however, 
with two of the older girls, took the insensi- 
ble form to the recitation-room, and Mr. Stone 
spoke again, in tones far different from his 
usual sharp accent : — 

" We will hope for the best ; and as the boys 
of the school are accustomed to spend their 
holidays among the wooded islands and the 
beech hills below, it is requested that you 
join the search for your missing companions. 
School is accordingly dismissed for the day ; 
you will find at the pier several large boats 
ready to take you down the harbor." 

It is not my intention to describe the futile 
search, which lasted several days, or the use- 
less dragging of the oozy channels near the 
shore where the boat was found ; but neither 
" Ed " nor " Sam " was found, and the letters 
despatched to the different parts of the coun- 
try by the guardian of the former were only 
answered by expressions of alarm and sympa- 
thy. The village paper was full of unusual 
interest for a fortnight, with particulars of 
"A Mysterious Disappearance," "A Sad 
Occurrence ; " and a liberal extract from the 
sermon preached by the good old minister, 
when there could be but little doubt that the 
salt sea had indeed swallowed up our play- 
mates. 

In poorer taste, and productive of much 
comment, was an address to the Sunday 
school by Mr. Amory, who drew from " a 
recent sad occurrence, q. solemn warning to 
truant scholars and disobedient children ; " nor 
was the public indignation lessened when, in 
his wife's name, he laid claim to the entire 
property of his nephew, and obtained it, with- 
out paying even the cheap tribute of a marble 
slab to the memory of the dead boy. 

Poor Mrs. Nevins wept much over her lost 



boy; but the poor have many sorrows, and 
the widow's struggles to obtain a support for 
her tjiree remaining children soon blunted 
the poignancy of her grief, and the fate of 
both the boys was forgotten in the constant 
changes of human life, or recalled only by a 
few, who could scarcely forget the stout form 
and rosy cheeks of Eddie Boyd, and the thinly- 
clad limbs, and colorless, resolute face of Sam 
Nevins. 

That was fourteen years ago. A long time 
since, as one of the elder boys, I had graduated 
from the academy, and after six years of study, 
had returned to Riverport to practise medi- 
cine; for the old family doctor had become 
feeble, and wanted a younger man to visit his 
patients far away down the sandy coast, or to 
face the driving rain and sharp, short seas, 
when a sudden summons came from the fish- 
ing hamlets among the islands. 

One night, when a north-easter was driving 
the sleety snow, like clouds of Liliputian 
arrows, into the smarting face of the traveller, 
and the war of the breakers on the bar below 
came up the bay like the distant slogan of a 
charging brigade, I received a summons which 
I could not deny, for it called me to the bed- 
side of the old fisherman, Vv^ho had last set 
eyes on the missing lads. He had fallen from 
the mast of his large boat, and broken his 
arm, besides receiving other injuries, and it 
was feared that he was dying. 

A stanch whale-boat, with five skilled oars- 
men, awaited me at the wharf; but the pas- 
sage was long and doubtful, and the short, 
sharp seas filled the craft half way to her 
gunwale, before we at last landed upon the 
island. 

I found my patient, old Job Fisher, anxious- 
ly expecting my coming ; and after looking at 
the fracture, — a simple one of the bone above 
the elbow, — I proceeded to examine into his 
other injuries. These were more serious ; he 
had struck heavily on his breast and side, 
among the ballast, and drew his breath with 
much difficulty, and in great pain. I set the 
bone, left some simple alleviating medicines, 
and was about to take my leave, when the pa- 
tient suddenly asked to speak with me alone, 
and the rest of the family rose and left the 
room. 

" I want to know, doctor," said he, "what 
you think of my case. Can I recover.?" 

I hesitated for a moment, and then answered 
frankly, " I can't tell now, Mr. Fisher, for 
your serious injuries are internal, and a day 
or two must elapse before I can say. You 
must hope for the best ; and I need not tell 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



you that quiet and cheerfulness are your best 
remedies." 

The fisherman siglied lieavilj, and then said, 
"I see that you fear tlie worst, and I hope 
that God's will will prove my happiness ; but 
there is one thing that has weighed upon my 
mind. You remember the time the two lads 
were said to be drowned, Squire Amory's 
nephew, and the other? " 

"Yes, indeed, I do." 

" Well, 'twas the squire and I that came 
across the boat in the little cove at the back 
of the island. I rowed up to her, and the 
squire looked in ; a queer smile came over his 
face, and then he checked it like, and said, 
' Poor fellows, they've been drowned. There's 
no doubt of it.' 

"Well, I didn't think at first but what it 
might have been so. I towed the boat up 




towards the town ; but as I rowed up, it came 
into my mind that the boat was drifting a-ivay 
from the shore zvhe7t zve found it, and some- 
how or other, I didn't feel satisfied that the 
boys had been lost out of her. Then we got 
to the wharf, and the squire told everybody 
how the boat had been found adrift, and the 
clothes of one boy in her; and so all hands 
believed that Sam had gone in swimming, and 
got the cramp, and that Eddie was lost in try- 
ing to save him. 

"Well, sir, the boat, when we got her, was 
all ship-shape, with two pairs of sculls stowed 
under the seats, with thole-pins sliipped and 
baler aft, just as we haul our dories up on the 
beach; and when I got home, my John said, 
' Father, there was an extra high tide to-day, 
and our dories at the Point got adrift before I 
thought of it, and gave me a long row.' 



" Next morning the squire came down, and 
talked to me about dragging for the bodies. 
Says I, ' Squire, there's a chance them boys is 
alive yet; ' and then I told him about the do- 
ries, and that the wind and tide would never 
have carried a boat into that cove from any 
other part of the bay. 'It's my opinion,' I 
says to him, ' that they've run away, and left 
the boat there, and the tide came up higher 
than they expected.' 

" 'You talk like a fool,' says he, as wratliy as 
could be; 'don't say anything like that to 
anybody else, for you'll only excite false hope, 
that'll never be realized. I shall be very angry 
if you do, and I know you love home too well 
to displease me.' 

"That was the only time in my life that I 
was afraid to speak right out as I thought. 
The season had been unfavorable ; the squire 
held a mortgage on my little place, and I said 
nothing. I don't know whether I did right or 
not, but I never yet felt as though those boys 
were dead." 

" Well, Job, I will keep your secret, although 
I tliink that the boys must be dead, or else we 
should have heard something of them in all 
these years. Now, don't talk any more, and 
don't worry about Squire Amory's misuse of 
his power over you, for there are few who 
would not have done exactly as you did ; " and 
leaving my patient I returned home. 

Job Fisher did not die, but his recovery was 
slow and doubtful ; and before he could again 
accompany his sons to the fishing-grounds, I 
was suddenly called upon by Stephen Amory, 
for my senior was away on a short visit. His 
father had had an attack of apoplexy. 

On arriving, I found that the attack was 
slight; one of those warnings, not to be neg- 
lected, of a danger which may be avoided 
by proper remedies, a suitable dietary, and a 
careful avoidance of everything that tends ta 
irritate or excite the brain. The usual reme- 
dies soon restored him, and he was borne 
from his library, where the servant had been 
called to his aid, to his chamber. As I gath- 
ered up my instruments, I found on the floor 
a letter which he had evidently dropped from 
his hand. It was small, and written on a dirty 
fly leaf, in a painfully cramped hand. In hopes 
to ascertain the cause of the attack, I read the 
short missive, which ran as follows : — 

" New York April 6 1S65 
Squier Amory 

this is too let you no that Eddy 
is Sick, and i am Afrade hee will c\y. I am Sick 
to, the doktor ses, we hav tifuss fever, the 
mann who kepes the hows Mr. James Tranor, 



lO 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



sais hee will doo his best, till yu kum. Hee 
livs att Number 123 east 34 Street. Kum rite 
awaj jurs Samuel Nevins." 

The paper almost dropped from my hands, 
as I realized the cruelty and deceit of the man 
whose life I had just helped to lengthen. The 
fisherman's story was not without its bearing, 
then; and folding the paper, I placed it in my 
medicine case for future use, should time bring 
round a day of reckoning. On following the 
patient to his chamber, I found him much 
more comfortable; and making an appoint- 
ment for a visit the following day, I returned 
home. 

The next morning I found the old man sit- 
ting up in an easy-chair, and tried to draw 
from him the cause of his indisposition. I 
questioned him about his diet, inquired into 
his occupation of late, told him I " knew that 
undue use of ardent spirits could not be the 
cause of it," and finally gave him the advice 
so often given to those similarly attacked, and 
so often neglected, or given too late, when it 
is impossible for the patient to follow it. 

"You must accept this first and slight at- 
tack as a warning; the next may be fatal ; but 
the third is a summons from which there can 
be no appeal. Medicine can do but little to 
aid you. A light diet, very moderate exercise, 
avoidance of extreme heat and impure air, 
and the enjoyment of what the apostle styles 
'a mind void of offence toward God and 
man,' will keep the life-torrent in its wonted 
channels, and prevent the suffusion of the 
brain." 

" Can you not give my son or wife direc- 
tions that they can follow, previous to your 
arrival, in case of another attack.''" 

" Certainly, although the chance of their 
materially aiding you is very remote indeed." 

The word " chance " seemed to excite him a 
little. " If you had had my experience, doc- 
tor, you would not speak slightingly of 
chances. I have known men on the brink 
of ruin, who had but one remote chance in 
their favor. They took it and are rich men 
to-day." 

I longed to tell him that I knew of the 
chance that had given me the clew to the fate 
of his lost nephew, so cruelly left to die in 
some obscure boarding-house of the distant 
city; but I saw the flush upon his face, and 
paused. I was a physician, and knew my 
duty, 

"You are getting excited. Squire Amory. 
The discussion would be interesting, no doubt, 
but you must rest until you are stronger." 



The gray eyes lost their keen, triumphant 
glance, and the successful plotter was lost in 
the enfeebled and apprehensive invalid. 

" You think that any unexpected and excit- 
ing emotion would be dangerous — do you, 
doctor.'' " 

"I should fear the worst," said I, gravely, 
" although the third attack is generally the 
fatal visitation. In your state of health, your 
life should be attended by the love of those 
around you, and that calm hope of a better 
and higher life which secures the soul from 
the vexations and disappointments of this 
stage of existence." 

" I think I may claim such a hope, doctor, 
notwithstanding the slanders and backbiting 
of some who are but a hinderance and a scan- 
dal to the church in which I have been a 
member for thirty years." 

The color was rising again in his flushed 
cheeks, and raising an admonitory finger, I 
bowed and took my leave. 

Two 3'ears after that, a great surprise elec- 
trified Riverport, and set all the lovers of 
gossip in a perfect fever of excitement. Mrs. 
Nevins, at the close of a day of unusually 
hard labor, was returning homeward, worn 
out in body and mind, when suddenly, as she 
turned into the narrow lane that led from the 
main street to the door of her cottage, a man 
heavily bearded, but young and well dressed, 
accosted her, and asked her name. 

" Now don't be afeard, marm, for if I am a 
rough customer, I've come this time on a wel- 
cum arind to you ; thet is, ef you're the widder 
Nevins." 

"That is what I've been called ever since 
Joshua — that's my husband as was — was lost 
in the Arethusy." 

" Wal, my arind's soon done, if you can 
answer a few questions. You had a son Sam 
once, I b'lieve." 

" Yes, he was drowned long of — " 

" Ned Boyd, I s'pose you was about ter say. 
Say now, marm, I've heerd that story afore, 
an' know about the boat, an' the clo'es. Now, 
was there anything in the pockets.'"' 

" Nothin' but a little Test'ment his teacher 
gin him at Sunday school, an' thet hed — " 

" Exactly, marm, es you say, I s'pose; but 
could you let me see the Testyment, — that is, 
ef you've no objection ter my goin' down ter 
the house with you." 

A negative could scarcely be given, and the 
stranger entered the house, whose dilapidated 
walls and poorly furnished interior evidently 
caused him much surprise, as evinced by a 
low, but long-continued whistle. He, however, 



THE GREAT BONANZA, 



II 



made no remark, but taking the book, held it 
up to the solitary candle lor a moment, and 
then from under his ample cloak took a stout 
and heavy bag. 

" I'm satisfied, marm, that you're all right, 
and you'll be able after this, I reckon, to stay 
at hum an' take things easier. Ef I don't tell 
you all I- might, it's because I hes strict orders, 
■ an' I alius keep my word. Look at the fly- 
leaf of the Testyment, an' you'll understand." 

So saying, he left his burden on the supper 
table, and strode up the lane, while his lis- 
tener, motionless with the struggling of 
conflicting emotions, could only watch his 
retreating figure, and wonder what new trial 
Heaven had in store for her. 

At last she mechanically opened the book, 
long kept in memory of the boy, whose loss 
had been one of the heaviest of the many 
attacks of adverse fortune. The book had 
been left in a mutilated condition, for a bright 
gilded prize-card, one of her few simple gifts 
to her wayward boy, had been torn from the 
fly-leaf on which it had been pasted. The 
missing portion had been restored by the 
stranger: the little card, strangely faded, 
blurred, and creased, still bore the almost 
illegible legend, " For this my son was dead, 
and is alive again ; he was lost, and is found." 

The children had already opened the bag 
and poured its little store of broad gold eagles 
on the rickety table ; but even the conscious- 
ness of release from menial labor and cease- 
less care could not turn the mother's heart 
from its yearnings after her lost darling. 
Taking her worn cloak and bonnet, she went 
out into the darkness, and sought everywhere 
through the little village ; but no one save the 
landlord of the tavern knew anything of the 
stranger, whose horse had been fed while his 
master took his supper, and then rode off", 
without exchanging more words than were 
needed to explain his wishes, and settle the 
bill. 

That same evening, however, I was again 
summoned to attend Squire Amory, who had 
once more been attacked by apoplexy. I lost 
no time in applying the proper remedies, and 
was again successful in restoring him to con- 
sciousness. As we carried him to his room, 
his eyes met mine, and before I left, he feebly 
enunciated the words, "Come to-morrow." 
I nodded acquiescence, and returned to my 
ofiice, to think over my duty in this perplex- 
ing case. It was late at night when I slept, 
but I felt satisfied as to what steps to take, and 
my decision was final. 

On this occasion I found " the squire " much 



enfeebled, and greatly depressed. He was still 
too weak to sit up, and as I entered, Stephen, 
his eldest son, stood by the foot of the couch, 
leaning against the heavy rosewood post, with 
a half-tlireatening, half-sullen look on his pale, 
delicately-chiselled features. Tears were in the 
old man's eyes, and it was at once apparent to 
me that some topic of exciting interest had 
been considered, previous to my coming. 

I greeted my old schoolmate, but received 
no answer save a sullen " Good evening," 
saying which, the young man left the room. 

" I am glad to find you better this morning, 
Mr. Amory, but I was in hopes that you would 
have escaped a second attack altogether." 

" Yes, doctor, and so did I; but I have had 
too much trouble, and a great deal of busi- 




ness, and last night a man called upon me, 
and his visit upset me altogether." 

"Why, Mr. Amory! I thought you a 
braver man than that. Did he offer any vio- 
lence .'' " 

The sick man regained something of the old, 
stern, grave dignity which had so often awed 
me in boyhood, and I almost felt as in the 
years gone by, when his searching eye had 
made an entire class of unruly boys tremble 
at the discovery of our raid on orchards and 
melon patches, or some petty act of insubor- 
dination, which had necessitated the interpo- 
sition of " the committee." 

" Can I trust you, doctor, implicitly, in a 
matter of the greatest importance ? " he said, 
with a glance which was strangely compounded 
of trained sagacity and imploring helpless- 
ness. 



12 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



"I came here this morning, Mr. Amory, 
with mv mind fully made up on one point; 
that is, to tell you that, in my poor opinion, 
the cause of your malady is one that I cannot 
reach with medicine or cure by regimen. If 
you have a mental anxiety which you Avish to 
communicate, I Avill keep it as sacredly as the 
traditions of our profession demand, and I 
will do all that I can to aid you in anything 
in which I can be of any assistance to do 
away with the cause of your disease." 

" I will tell you then," said the sick man, 
tremblingly. " I have lost all my property." 

"What! "said I, in amazement; "lost all 
your propertj'.'' You, the president of the 
Riverport Bank, and the largest stockholder.? 
The holder of so much real estate, and — " 

"It is as I say, doctor. Last year I was a 
rich man, and might have been still, if I had 
been contented to amass wealth in the old, 
safe way; but I dabbled in silver mining- 
stocks, and a day or two ago an important 
lawsuit was decided against our company, 
and its stock fell from one hundred dollars to 
fifty-five dollars per share. I held three thou- 
sand shares, and I lost almost all that I was 
worth." 

"But you were worth nearly two hundred 
thousand dollars, according to the general 
estimate, Mr. Amory; and that leaves you 
seventy-five thousand dollars, even if your 
stocks should continue at their present low 
figure." 

" I thought so, too; but last night — There, 
doctor, I can't tell it. Take that paper and 
read for yourself." 

He handed me an envelope, bearing the 
well-known imprint of a legal firm of New 
York. The letter enclosed made a courteous 
demand " for an account of the estate of 
Edward Boyd, now resident in Virginia City, 
Nevada, to whom you were appointed guar- 
dian in 1858." 

I felt that it would be both cruel and useless 
to feign surprise, and wonder at such a claim 
from one long deemed among the dead, and 
therefore took the straight road to an under- 
standing. 

" I have for some time had my doubts that 
your lost nephew was really dead ; and so this 
demand is not such a surprise to me as it 
would be to our fellow-townsmen. Will the 
claim ruin you, if enforced .'' " 

"Wholly. The estate, with accumulated 
interest, amounts to over one hundred thou- 
sand dollars ! The messenger who brought 
this — a rough miner, apparently — said that 
he would come for an answer to-night. ' I 



would advise ye,' said he, ' to pay more 'ten- 
tion ter this letter than ye did ter the one the 
sick boy wrote ter ye frum New York.' " 

Amory's feelings had evidently led him far- 
ther than he had intended to go in his com- 
munications to me, for he caught his breath, 
as if choking, and peered at me uneasily from 
under his long white lashes. 

" I knew of that letter two years ago, Mr. 
Amory, and therefore you need not hesitate. 
What else did he say.'"' 

"I don't know how you came to know so 
much about my aff'airs, doctor; but the rest 
of the story is short. ' The boys hev struck 
it rich,' said the stranger, ' an' they've sworn 
ter hev the last, cent you owe Ned. I reckon 
they knew how Ophir stock was like to pay,, 
when they got Overbury to rope in the presi- 
dent of the Riverport Bank. Good night, 
stranger. I'll take your answer to-morrow 
night.' Now, doctor, you see my position. 
My fault has been punished with the loss of 
the work of a lifetime, and my unkindness 
brought forth its harvest of revenge. What 
shall I do .? " 

" There is only one way to do, and that is, 
to make the most complete reparation possi- 
ble. Give up everything, confess your fault, 
and seek a reconciliation." 

The door opened sharply, and Stephen 
Amory entered. His eyes blazed with rage 
and scoi-n as he rushed to his father's bed- 
side. 

"Are you mad, father," said he, " to listen 
to such cowardly advice .'' Will you make your- 
self the byword of Riverport, and beggar 
Laura and myself.'' What do you know of this 
stranger.' or who can tell but what this is 
some trumped-up claim, preferred by an im- 
postor?" 

" Stephen," said the old man, " oe silent. 
Call in your mother and sister at once." 

The young man hesitated. 

" If you wish them to see him again in life, 
obey him," I whispered, for I feared the worst, 
as I saw the increased color of the invalid. 

In a few moments the ladies entered the 
room. The squire motioned them to his 
bedside. ♦ 

" I once did a very wicked and cruel thing,"' 
said he, " and the God of the fatherless has 
visited me in displeasure. Your nephew and 
cousin Edward is not dead, and as I, in my 
avarice, neglected his appeal when sick in New 
York, he has sought my ruin. Heavy losses 
of late have left me with . nothing but the 
estate of his dead father, and now he sends to 
demand it. Stephen wishes me to stand a 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



13 



suit at law. I am tired of strife, and weary 
of unjust gain. What shall I do, wife.^ What 
say you, Laura ? '' 

Mrs. Amory was not a lovable woman ; but 
duty, with her, was an iron code, not to be 
set aside for love or fear. 

" If 3'ou feel that it is your duty to give up 
all, surrender the last cent, and the' very roof 
above us." 

"And you, Laura, what say you, child.'"' 
said the squire, eagerly. 

Laura's eyes were full of tears, and her 
cheeks were as pale as death, but she kept back 
all other signs of emotion as she answered, — 

" We shall not be poor, father, as long as 
we possess the love of God and the affection 
of each other." 

The old man's face lost its thi-eatening glow, 
tind a look of calm contrition softened his 
harsh features. The dying sun cast his de- 
clining rays into the chamber, and the invalid 
saw that night was near at hand. 

"You have chosen well, I feel assured. 
The messenger who is to take my answer will 
soon be here, and shall be admitted to receive 
the message in your presence." 

At that moment, a quick, sharp knock 
sounded at the door, and the servant was in- 
structed to show the stranger into the sick 
room. His heavy tramp up the broad stairs 
sounded menacing, and I met him outside the 
door. 

" Mr. Amory has had an apoplectic attack, 
and the next will probably be fatal," said I. 
" He will give you his answer inside. Please 
to be as gentle as you can, and do not excite 
hin»." 

In the twilight of the corridor I could not 
distinguish the expression of my companion's 
face, but I fancied that his voice faltered as he 
answered, — 

"Never fear, stranger. I hes my orders ; 
but I never strike a man when he's down." 

" Come in, then," said I; and we entered. 

" I hev come fur your answer," said the 
stranger, advancing as noiselessly as his heavy 
boots would admit, and stopping about mid- 
way between the door and the couch. 

The squire turned himself towards the fig- 
ure, with something of his old pride. 

" Had I been left to myself, I should have 
told you to do your worst ; but " (here his voice 
softened), " the hand of God has been laid 
upon me, and I have repented of my sin. It is 
hardly likely that I shall ever live to see Ed- 
ward Boyd again, even if he were willing to 
forgive my unkindness, and the cruel silence 
with which I regarded his appeal to my pro- 



tection ; therefore I must trust my message to 
you. Will you carry it truly.-"' 

" Thet is what I'm here for, squire. I hev 
no other arind, and Ned Boyd shell hear it to 
the last identical word." 

"Then, in the presence of these witnesses, 
I resign willingly to Edward Boyd all his 
estate, leaving to him to decide whether or not 
my heirs shall receive the sum due me as 
guardian, since he attained his majority. 
Carry to him my acknowledgment of my sin, 
and tell him that a dying man asks his for- 
giveness." 

"And tell him," broke in the sweet voice 
of Miss Amory, " that his cousin Laura begs 
him, for the sake of the old days when they 
were children together, that he will forget the 
past, and be satisfied with regaining his prop- 
erty. Don't advise him to hate my poor fa- 
ther, for he has done all that he could." 

The rough voice faltered visibly, and the 
herculean form seemed less erect and tri- 
umphant, as the last words were spoken. 

" Ned Boyd didn't expect this change in the 
old man ; and I reckon he won't be over- 
pleased when he finds thet he's taken the last 
ore in the lead, and come plum agin the 
casin'. God bless you, miss; keep up your 
spirits, an' hope for the best. Good night, 
gentlemen ; " and the messenger's heavy tread 
died away through the hall ; then the door 
closed behind him, and his horse's hoof struck 
the sparks from the flinty road as the rough 
rider dashed away at headlong speed. 

Three days later, the mail brought to Mr. 
Amory another enclosure from the New York 
firm. It was a deed of gift " of the personal 
estate of Edward Boyd, as inherited from his 
late father." The enjoyment of the interest 
was deeded " t(j Hiram Amory, executor un- 
der the will ; " but after his death, the prin- 
cipal went to "my beloved cousin, Laura 
Amory." 

Another letter from Edward Boyd conveyed 
a. full assurance of his forgiveness, and gave 
such a schedule of the fortune he had amassed, 
that the princely gift he had made seemed no 
such sacrifice, after all. 

" I shall visit Riverport to-morrow," he con- 
tinued, " and if you choose to meet me at the 
depot, I shall be happy to end all unpleasant- 
ness in a family reunion before I return to 
Nevada." 

The tears of joy and gratitude whicli the 
reading of that letter occasioned I had the 
pleasure of witnessing; and when the noon 
train arrived at Riverport, tlie family carriage 
bore the squire, Avell supported with cushions. 



H 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



to the depot. A tall, well-dressed, keen-ejed 
man stepped forward to the carriage. 

" Is this Edward Bojd ? " asked the old man, 
tremblingly. 

The bright eyes grew suspiciously moist as 
the wanderer sprang into the barouche and 
grasped his uncle's hand ; and an hour later 
all Riverport knew that Ned Boyd and Sam 
Nevins had come back from the mines as rich 
as Croesus ! 

The next fortnight was a time long to be 
remembered in the Amory homestead ; and 
among the pleasures of that season of re- 
joicing, the recital of the adventures of the 



truant lads was not the least. The broad 
piazza, twined with climbing roses and wood- 
bine, was the auditorium, and the warm sum- 
mer evenings the time devoted to the relation. 
Sam Nevins, now a wealthy, self-poised stock 
operator, was always one of the listeners, and 
the squire seemed to grow young again, as 
the sad memories of the past were forgotten 
in the peaceful happiness of the hour. 

As far as memory serves me, the following 
is a synopsis of a long recital taking up sev- 
eral evenings. In connection with recent de- 
velopments of the vast mineral wealth of that 
region, it is not without interest. 




Taking the Book, he held it up to the solitary Candle. Page 9. 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



15 



PART II. 



THE FORTUNES OP THE KUNA'WAYS. 



" TT is hardly necessary," said Ned, growing 

-*• visibly red in the face, " to say why Sam 
and I concluded to run away. I had plenty to 
eat and drink, and was well dressed, I suppose ; 
but I felt that I was not loved as v.'ere the other 
children. Sam had love enough, but a lack 
of food and clothing, which his poor mother 
tried in vain to supply in sufficient quantities. 
Accordingly we resolved, like the other boys 
we had i-ead of, ' to go forth to seek our for- 
tunes ; ' and some months before we carried out 
our project, we commenced our preparations. 

" I had always received many presents of 
money, which for the most part had been de- 
posited in that curious earthenware money- 
box which you all will remember. I knew of 
several five-dollar notes, which I had carefully 
folded to enable them to pass through the nar- 
row slit in the conical top; and many bits of 
silver had I hoarded until I could exchange 
them for a new dollar bill to add to my stock. 

"When father died, the amount was consid- 
erable; and although my allowance was con- 
siderably reduced after that, I received, at dif- 
ferent times, presents which largely increased 
the sum total. 

" Sam and I agreed between us that we would 
go to sea; but Sam refused to leave his mother 
until her year's supply of wood was sawed, 
split, and piled. And many an afternoon we 
worked together, laying our plans, and talking 
of the sights we should see, until the spring 
was nearly ended, and our task was done. 

" The night befoi'e Ave started, I took my 
little box into the barn, and chipped a hole in 
the bottom. Sam was with me, and I poured 
the contents into his hat. He was evidently 
amazed at the amount of our capital ; and even 
I was astonished at the gradual accumulations 
of twelve years — for the first bill, one of ten 
dollars, had been deposited in itby my mother 
on my first birthday. We counted it out : there 
was in all one hundred and ten dollars and 
fifty-six cents. 

" Early the next morning I inet Sam at the 
wharf, where Ave took an unoccupied dory, and 
roAved doAvn the harbor to the cove Avhere the 
boat was found. We hauled her up, as we 
supposed, above the reach of the tide ; and 
Sam took ofli" his oldest suit and put on one 
of mine. We each had a small travelling-bag, 
which I had passably furnished from my own 



wardrobe ; and, walking over to the lower sta- 
tion, Ave took the early train for NeAv York. 

" On our arrival we fell into the hands of a 
cab-driver, who plainly told us that he kncAV 
Ave were runaways, and readily coaxed and 
threatened us into boarding Avith him during 
our stay in the cit}'. We had each about five 
dollars in our pocket-books, and carried the 
rest of our cash in bills, in the waistbands of 
our trousers, under the lining. He managed 
to keep us until our visible cash was nearly 
gone, Avhen the fever attacked one of his chil- 
dren, and the infection spread to nearly every 
person in the family. 

" Then it was that the rough, tricky cabman 
and his stout, hard-working Avife showed, be- 
neath the compelled selfishness of their ordi- 
nary life, a tireless patience and humanity 




which I shall never forget. Three weeks they 
took care of us, and, hearing nothing from 
you, sent us out to a dairy-farm, where, for our 
feeble aid in light Avork, Ave got our board until 
Ave were strong and Avell again. 

" Then good John Traynor wrote to us that 
he had got us a chance as Avaiter-boys on a clip- 
per bound for San Francisco. So we left the 
farm, and returned to the city. 

" The captain liked our appearance, and en- 
gaged us at once, at eight dollars a month. 
As Ave bade Traynor adieu, I produced a couple 
of ten-doUar bills, and begged him to take 
them as a part of the sum he had expended on 
our account. 

" ' Take it,' said I. ' We have enough to 
pay our Avay, even Avith a little more expense 
tlian Ave are likely to meet. We Avill pay you 
the rest when we can.' 

" The great tears came into the rough fcU 



i6 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



low's eyes. ' Take yer money — is it? If I do, 
may I be — There, I Avon't swear about it; 
but my hands will be worked to the bone afore 
I take a cint more from yees. We've a little 
sum in the Savin's Bank, and I don' know the 
dhriver in the city as has a betther run of cus- 
tom. It's meself that lift a good home to sake 
me fortune, and met wid those that hadn't their 
heart in the bit and the sup when a poor b'y 
wanted help. There, put up your money ; an' 
whin ye come back from Californy, fetch me a 
bit of a lump of silver or gould, m.ay be.' 

"The next night the swift 'Ranger' was 
oif Sandy Hook, and our sea-life had fairly 
commenced. Of course we had the usual ex- 
periences of green boys at sea. We were mis- 
erably seasick, and found our miseries only 
the subject of rough jests and careless laugh- 
ter. We were bullied by the petty officers, 
and teased by the seamen, and soon learned 
the hard lesson which every one learns who 
lives under the absolute and irresponsible 
power of one man. Not that Captain Howard 
was a harsh or cruel ship-master; for he was 
really a whole-souled, generous-hearted man, 
and, in sickness or misfortune, no one who 
had any claim upon his kindness had reason 
to complain. 

"At San Francisco he secured a charter to 
Calcutta and return ; and we agreed to remain 
on board the Ranger until she got back again 
to San Francisco. ' You chaps are pretty 
smart for such little shavers ; but you're only 
fourteen now, and hardly old enough to take 
care of yourselves yet. Just stay with me 
another year, and I'll try and get you a berth 
in some store or other when we get back.' 

"We were easily persuaded; and for two 
years we remained on the Ranger. But at last 
she was ordered back to New York, and Cap- 
tain Howard, after vainly endeavoring to per- 
suade us to go with him, was as good as his 
word in getting us a situation. 

" It Avas during the early part of the war, 
and the ship had been sold to the government 
for the transport service. The captain was to 
take her to New Yoi'k ; and as there were al- 
ready rumors of rebel privateers in the South 
Pacific, she was pierced for guns, and fur- 
nished with four thirty-twos; a number of gun- 
ners and extra men were supplied from the 
navy-yard ; and it was not until the night be- 
fore she sailed that we were summoned to the 
cabin to be paid off and discharged. 

" ' I am sorry, boys, to leave you here,' said 
the captain, ' for I've found you honest and 
reliable ; an' I've tried to do as well for you as 
a rough, uneducated fellow, that has worked 



his way up from before the mast, could. I 
had a good mother once, and, although you 
wouldn't think it, have tried to keep you from 
deviltry, and swearin', and such like, as much 
as I could. We're a rough set, and the cabin 
of a liner isn't the place to learn much that is 
good ; but I'm afraid it's a deal better than the 
only place I can get for you now.' 

" Sam and I looked at each other in amaze- 
ment not unmingled with alarm. Could it be 
possible that we, who had witnessed so many 
boisterous, scurrilous, blasphemous sea cap- 
tains in their revels, were about to assist at 
orgies to which these should be comparatively 
innocuous, and even preferable. The captain 
laughed a little ; but there was a trace of sad- 
ness in his tone as he continued : — 

" ' I don't wonder you look surprised, boys, 
for you've seen what we call some " gay old 
times " in this cabin, and found me, more than 
once, as poor a saint as I am a preacher. But 
the evil you saw then was in the rough, and 
disgusted you, I've no doubt; and much of the 
bad language you heard was the result of rough 
training and ignorance more than of deep- 
seated wickedness. Now I've got you a situa- 
tion something like the one you've had here, 
in a club-house, where some of the richest and 
best educated men of the city live together. 
They will teach you more politeness than I 
have ; you will wear finer clothes, sleep softer, 
and eat of the best the market affords ; but the 
evil which you see will be gilded by wealth, 
and learning, and style ; and you will find mean 
and wicked thoughts beneath the merchant's 
broadcloth, which the roughest sea-dog of our 
line would despise. 

" ' However, I don't know that I've any 
right to talk in this way. People come here 
to California to get gold ; and all the passions 
that fit men for hell seem to find this a good 
growing soil. Besides, I'm something like 
old Cap'n Barnes when he joined the church. 
He was a terrible rough, profane old fellow; 
and when he got real mad it took any amount 
of grace to keep him from swearing. At last 
he ripped out one day at a meeting about 
church matters, when a smooth-going member 
tried to play a pretty sharp game on the so- 
ciety. The minister, a good old soul, rose and 
called the cap'n to order, and reminded him 
that a Christian should be above reproach, and 
quoted something about keeping himself " un- 
spotted from the world." 

" ' The cap'n got up and said he felt sorry 
for what he had said, and begged the pardon 
of the members ; but he had told them, when 
he joined, what his failing was, and that he 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



i*r 



was afraid he should bring scandal on the 
church. "But, said he, "our minister tells 
us that we are to be soldiers, fightin' the good 
fight against the devil an' all his angels. Wal, 
once I knew a man who told me of a terrible 
fight Avith Injins, in which all the partj was 
killed but him. Thej was all round him, but 
single-handed an' alone he fought through the 
crowd and got clear at last. One day this feller 
went in swimming, and his skin hadn^t a scar 
on it. I set that man down as not much of a 
fighter any way. An' I think thet the ChA-is- 
tian thet hes no failin's can't have felt much 
of the power of the temptations and wicked- 
ness of the Avorld." 

" ' So, boys,' continued our worthy Mentor, 
' perhaps it's just as well that you should see 
the other side of the card. If you determine 
to be honest and manly, you'll come out all 
right. But don't let the weakness and mean- 
ness of any one destroy your faith in the good- 
ness of God and the kindness and generosity 
of mankind. Well, you've had my lectui"e, 
and here is the balance of your wages ; ' and 
after paying us off, our old friend took us 
up to the buildings occupied by the Occi- 
dental Club, and presented us to our new em- 
ployer. 

" Gerald Rushton, or, to use his popular 
cognomen. Col Rushton, was a middle-aged 
gentleman, with an air half military, half gen- 
teel, a portly body, and a sallow, flabby face, 
half covered with a huge mustache, and with 
a pair of large black eyes surrounded by those 
heavy, leaden-hued circles which tell of vital- 
ity wasted by unnaturally late hours and a life 
of dissipation. Perfectly polite in every word 
and action to all the frequenters of the club, 
never excited to passion or awakened to en- 
thusiasm, he was a perfect master of a situation 
where the main points were to provide well for 
the animal comforts of the inmates, and to 
keep carefully from the outer world the hidden 
life of his customers. He received us coldly, 
and summoned the head waiter, who furnished 
us with the uniform costume worn by the em- 
ployees of the establishment, and assigned us 
to different stations. 

" Of the two years we spent there I care 
to say little, for much of what I heard is unfit 
to be repeated here, and the scenes which I 
witnessed in the luxurious parlors and around 
the card-tables of the club will never fade from 
memory while I live. True there were but few 
occasions when the men who were beggared 
in those stately rooms sought relief in self- 
murder, or avenged their betrayal to ruin by 
violence ; and the few exceptional cases were 
2 



smoothed over by the influence of the mem- 
bers of the club, and the tact and self-possessed 
coolness of ' the colonel.' 

" We were, from the first, favorites with our 
superior, for our life on shipboard, and our 
hardened constitutions, enabled us to do the 
' night-work' of the institution with compara- 
tively little exhaustion from want of sleep. 
Much of our work was in attendance on the 
card-players, who seldom rose from their fas- 
cinating occupation until two or three in the 
morning. There I saw enough to convince 
me that Rushton was not the uninterested 
spectator that he seemed ; and at last I found 
that his earnings as superintendent were but 
an unimportant part of the wealth he drew 
from an organized system of wholesale spoli- 
ation. His victims were for the most part 




young men, who never dreamed that the men 
whom they honored as leaders in politics, law, 
and trade could lend themselves to aught more 
debasing than high play at cards ; or if they 
did suspect the truth, it was impossible to ver- 
ify their suspicions. 

"At last, one day, as I loitered by the side 
of the Pacific Mail steamer, which was just on 
the point of starting, I saw a tall, fine-looking 
man bidding adieu to a youth Avhom I had 
already noted as a fresh victim of the colonel's 
wiles. 

" ' Good by, Henry,' said the father. ' Don't 
stay here any longer than you can help, but 
be off" to Washoe at your earliest opportunity- 
Schaeffer and Scales need the money, and we 
want 3'ou at home with the old folks as soon 
as possible. Give my kind regards to Rush- 



i8 



THE GREAT BONANZA, 



ton. I suppose you will stay at the Occidental 
a week longer.' 

"'Yes, father,' said the j^oung man; 'I 
want to give a fortnight to seeing San Fran- 
cisco; besides, Rushton has given me intro- 
ductions to so many men of considerable note, 
that I feel like pursuing the acquaintance fai*- 
ther.' 

" 'Well, Henry, do as you think best; but 
don't fail to set out in a week at farthest.' 

"At this juncture the bell rang, and with 
the usual bustle, din, and hurry, the steamship 
left the wharf, and the young man watched the 
stout vessel until, on the swift current of the 
refluent tide, she slipped through the rocky 
portals of the Golden Gate. 

" There was something in the stately ten- 
derness of the father, and the manly affection 
of the son, which awakened me to a sense of 
my duty in the premises. I looked around 
for the stranger. The ship had rounded the 
headland, and with an audible sigh the young 
man turned his face towards his new home. 

"' I believe you are stopping at the Occi- 
dental,' said I. 

" ' Yes, sir; I came there three nights ago. 
You are employed there — are you not.'" 

" ' Yes, sir,' said I ; 'I am at present one of 
the attendants in the card-room.' 

" ' I thought I remembered your face. What 
can I do for you, my lad .'' ' '. 

" ' Nothing, sir. It was in the hope of do- 
ing you a service that I took the liberty of ad- 
dressing you. I wish to give you a warning.' 

"'A warning! Why, you are becoming 
quite mysteriously interesting. But, pardon 
me, sir, what have I to fear.^" 

" 'Nothing but the loss of your money ; but 
that, I fancy, would be serious enough in its 
consequences.' 

" ' The deuce! yes, I should think so. But 
how am I likely to lose it, my dear sir.?' 

" ' At the card tables of the Occidental.' 

" The young man started. 

" ' Impossible. I know no one there except 
men too high in position to become gamblers, 
and of characters too well-established to be af- 
fected by anything which you or I could say.' 

"' You are right; and I shall say nothing. 
But I, perhaps, may be allowed to remind you 
of the leading events of last evening.'" 

" The young man bowed his acquiescence. 

" ' You came in with Colonel Rushton and 
Mr. A., who introduced you to Senator D. and 
Lawyer Y. You sat down to a game of whist, 
at half-dollar points. Before you went to bed 
at two, the game had been changed to draw 
poker, and you had lost heavily.' 



" ' You have used your eyes well, I must ad- 
mit. But such a succession of events might 
have been the legitimate result of a fairly- 
played game. I see no reason, however, which 
should lead you to deceive me ; and I will be 
on my guard.' 

" ' Let me give you one piece of advice, sir,' 
said I : ' never bet on any hand, however large, 
unless you have dealt the carde yourself; or, 
if you must bet, wait, and " call " as soon as 
you can. You will soon see that, however 
good a hand you may hold, a better will be in 
the hands of one of your companions. I have 
seen the results of a different course too often 
to have any doubts of your ruin if you despise 
my advice.' 

" ' I do not despise it, sir, and will test it 
to-night. If you prove right, I shall not be 
ungrateful. Will you give me your name.?' 

" ' My name is Edward Boyd, and I shall be 
on duty at the card room to-night. You will 
be invited to play again this evening, you may 
be sure. We must part here. Don't recognize 
me at the house, sir.' 

" That evening, as I went up stairs to the 
parlor devoted to card-playing, I passed tlie 
young man, whose name I learned during the 
day was Henry Hunter. ' The senator,' as 
his companion was generally styled, was dis- 
playing his really brilliant powers of conver- 
sation, and had evidently charmed the young 
man by the bland richness of his voice and his 
vast fund of general information. At that 
moment the lawyer and Mr. A. met them. 

" ' Shall we finish that little game to-night.?' 
said the latter. ' Y. leaves for Sacramento 
to-morrow morning, and I suppose Hunter 
will be on his way to Washoe before his re- 
turn.' 

" ' My young friend and I have been having 
such a charming conversation that I hardly 
care to sit down in that close room with so 
many players. Let me play the host to-night, 
gentlemen. — Mr. Rushton,' said the senator, 
raising his voice, ' send up some refreshments 
to my room : we are going to sit there this 
evening; and if you feel like dropping in 
upon us, don't use any ceremony, I beg of 
you.' 

"I caught Huntei-'s eye. He started, but 
instantly recovered his usual politeness and 
easy confidence ; and the party went up to the 
luxurious rooms of the senator. At about 
midnight A. and Y. entered the card room 
perfectly furious. 

"'Did you ever see such luck.?' said the 
former. ' He has won back all that he lost 
last night, and bet as if he suspected.' 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



19 



" ' Hush ! ' interposed his more cautious le- 
gal companion. 'I'll lay my life that he does 
suspect; and the less said the better. But 
Rushton will take my place to-night, and — ' 
The rest of the interesting conversation was 
inaudible. 

"The next morning Mr. Hunter beckoned 
to me as I passed through the smoking-room. 

" 'You were right,' said he, in a low tone. 
' Can I see you anywhere alone by and by.'" 

" 'I am off duty at two, and shall take a 
stroll on the wharf. If you choose, I can 
meet you there ; ' and I passed on to finish my 
errand. 

"At the hour appointed I met Mr. Hunter. 
He acknowledged my timely services, and an- 
nounced his intention of going to Nevada the 
next day. 

" ' I don't like to leave you here, for this is 
no place for a boy like you. I wish I could 
take you with me.' 

" The chance I had long desired had at last 
presented itself. 

" ' I wish you Avould take me with you. I 
can work hai-d, and have wanted to go to the 
mines a long time. Have you no work for us 
to do.? for I can't leave Sam.' 

" ' Then you have a friend.'" said he, laugh- 
ing. ' You have never told me about Sam.' 

Then I related our little history; and when 
he again spoke, the laugh had disappeared from 
his tone, and his soft black eyes wei-e full of 
almost womanly tenderness. 

" 'You shall. both go with me; that is, if you 
can leave to-morrow, and are willing to try 
the rough and weary labor of a miner's life.' 

" 'We were paid off two days ago,' said I; 
'and Sam has long been urging me to leave 
the service, for the night-work has already be- 
gun to tell upon us.' 

" The next day, at four P. M., Mr. Hunter, 
Sam, and myself were on board a steamer 
bound up the Sacramento River, en route for 
"Washoe. At Sacramento we took the train 
for Folsom, where stages awaited our arrival, 
to convey us over the Sierra Nevada to Vir- 
ginia City. 

"Of that long night-ride I have many and 
varied memoi-ie.s. The first score of miles led 
us over a terribly cut-up road, from which vol- 
mnes of dust arose, choking the lungs, and 
hiding the deep dry ruts which threatened at 
every moment to upset the ponderous stage. 
But about an hour after leaving Placerville, 
Avhere we stopped for supper, the roadway be- 
came a hard gravel ; and, as the shadows deep- 
ened, we sped through the winding approaches 
which lead through threatening walls of eter- 



nal adamant and gigantic red wood groves to 
the narrow trestle-bridges which span the swift 
American and its granite-walled tributaries. 
The night was one of those clear, star-lit ones 
which give to every cliff and forest a blackness 
which only served to throw into more startling 
distinctness the skeleton of some blasted tree, 
or the vast detached boulders which lie scat- 
tered above the winding road which leads up 
to the suminit. 

" Strewn over the mountain-sides, as if flung 
by those Titanic warriors who essayed their 
mighty prowess in vain against the hosts of 
heaven, many rested upon a base so narrow, 
and apparently insufficient, that more than 
once, as I awoke with a start from a momen- 
tary doze, I repressed with difficulty a cry of 
alarm, as at some sudden turn a huge fragment 
seemed about to crush us in irresistible descent. 

"At three A. M. we reached the summit, 
and saw afar off on the horizon the pearly 
flush that men call ' the false dawn.' The air 
was chill, almost frosty, for we were eight 
thousand feet above the level of the sea. 

"The next six miles was a headlong rush 
downward along ' the new grade,' a shelving 
road, winding along the side of the mountain, 
without post or rail between the road-way and 
the abyss whose rocky bottom lies hundreds 
of feet below. The sun rose as we passed be- 
neath the lofty cliff where the pine-crowned 
Point-of-Rocks overlooks the limpid waters 
of Lake Tahoe, and after crossing 'The Di- 
vide ' beyond the Glenbrook Station, we passed 
through Carson Silver City and Gold Hill, 
and entered the devious streets of Virginia 
City thirty-eight hours out from San Fran- 
cisco. 

" For the last few miles all traces of natural 
beauty had been lost in the unceasing strug- 
gle wliich for five years past had been waged 
between human skill, with its armies of la- 
borers, and wealth of scientific appliances, and 
powerful engines, and the grim walls and ledges 
of metamorphic rock, which for ages had 
faithfully guarded the treasures of tiie moun- 
tains. 

" Gangs of miners covered with mud, or 
white with dust, issued from tlie bowels of the 
earth, or disappeared into rock>' fissures like 
the gnomes of German story. The air was 
full of penetrating rock-dust and the poison- 
ous vapors of the smelting-furnaces. Tall 
pillars of iron bore up the vast pulleys of the 
hoisting apparatus, which at once carried the 
miner down to his task a thousand feet below, 
and raised 'to the bank' huge buckets of 
gray ore worth a king's ransom ; and the way 



20 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



was almost choked Avith wagons and vehicles 
bearing new machinery, food, and goods of all 
kinds to the miners' city. 

" We were well received by Messrs. Schaef- 
ferand Scales, two foreign gentlemen, of large 
mining experience, who, with the elder Hunter, 
owned a large interest in one of the principal 
mines. Henry Hunter was to be the head 
book-keeper of the concern, and at once stated 
his wishes concerning us to the managers. 

" Schaeffer, a nervous, black-bearded Ger- 
man from the Hartz Mountains, answered, in 
his quick, kind way, — 

" ' Certainlee, dey shall have a situation ; but 
dare is just now no place, except dey sail work 
in de mine, or watch de works of reducti-on.' 

" ' You won't find the first so pleasant as 
3'our duties at Frisco, I'm afraid,' said Scales, 
a bluff Englishman, who had sei'ved a long 
apprenticeship in the mines of Potosi. ' But 
there's a better chance for j^ou to learn there 
what may yet make both your fortunes.' 

" We both decided to work in the inine ; and 
Scales promised us eighty dollars a month and 
our board. 

"'It is not commonly done ; but we owe 
you a debt, and you and your friend shall live 
with us as long as you stay in Virginia City.' 

" We accordingly gladly accepted the offer, 
and the next day went down the shaft with 
Schaeffer, who called our attention, here and 
there, to the rocks which, dripping with con- 
densed moisture, and frosty with gathered dust, 
still showed here and there a glimmer of white 
or rosy quartz, a glint of semi-transparent or 
snowy spar, or the grayish-red surface of frac- 
tured hornblende. 

" ' I do suppose,' said our voluble guide, as 
we rapidly descended into the apparently bot- 
toml^s abyss, ' that you sail be dis-apointed 
that you see no silfer. But you sail seldom 
see silfer, as dey do find gold and copper, in 
threads through de solid rock. Now, dere,' he 
said, as we shot by a narrow opening, evidently 
a cross-gallery, ' dat was our best ore, and we 
did get seven hundret dollar a ton from some 
of it; and yet you would not pick up a piece 
of it on de street, unless to trow at a dog.' 

" 'And do you never find silver in visible 
quantities .'' ' asked Sam. 

" ' O, yes ; in Norway, at Konigsberg, dey 
did find one mass of silfer as long and as big 
as a mans, and dat weighed nearly five hun- 
dret pounds. Den in Mexico and Peru dey do 
often find pure metal in large pieces. But we 
do never do so here. Dere has been, however, 
in some mines, large pockets of what we do 
call de horn silfer, or what de chemists do call 



de " natif chloride of silfer." Dis is often 
three quarter parts rich in pure metal, and,' 
lowering his voice, ' I lias sometimes found a 
very leetle in dis mine.' 

" At last we reached the lowest level, a thou- 
sand feet below the surface, and were set at 
work by an overseer, to whom we were espe- 
cially recommended by the kind-hearted Ger- 
man ; and in a few daj's we had settled down 
to the monotonous drudgery of silver mining. 

" For two years we worked tlius ; and Sani 
became especially skilful as a miner, and his 
judgment in the matter of ore becaine won- 
derful. There was not a shaft, level, cross- 
cut, or winze in the district of which he did 
not carry in his head a complete mining-chart ; 
and at last he was always taken into council 
when a new mode of approach was proposed ; 
and his pay had been proportionally ad- 
vanced. 

"As for me, my health could not stand the 
hard labor so well, and under Mr. Schaeffer's 
direction I became quite an expert in the ix-- 
ducing process, by which the metal is sepa- 
rated from the rock, and the copper, sulphur, 
arsenic, lead, and other substai>ces, with one 
or all of which it is nearly always associated. 

" In 1S65 nearly all our works were founded 
on the Mexican amalgamation process, said to 
have been invented, in 1557, by a certain miner 
of Pachuca, named Bartholomew de Medina, 
although Schaeffer used to assert ' dat my 
countrymen of de Suabian mines did practise 
dat long ago.' As carried on in Mexico, the 
ore is reduced to powder by stamps, and then 
transferred to the rude crushing mills, or ar- 
j'astras, as they are called, where stones, re- 
volved by mule power around a stone-paved 
trough filled with Avater, reduces the ore to the 
finest of dust. It is then, in the state of mud, 
placed in the amalgamating yard, Avhich is 
also floored with stone, and, with the addition 
of from four to twenty per cent, of salt, is 
made into large heaps. When iron pyrites, 
or crude sulphate of iron, is not naturally 
present, quantities of this are added, with 
roasted copper pyrites, or sulphate of copper, 
besides lime and decaying vegetable matter. 

"These materials are duly mixed by the 
trampling feet of inany horses or mules, and 
about six times as much mercury as the esti- 
mated weight of silver present is sifted through 
stout canvas pockets, and intimately mingled 
with the heap. The process, depending on 
natural heat and a slow chemical action, takes 
about five inonths, and the loss of mercury 
and waste of ore is very great. 

" Our stamps were of steel, six in number, 



THE GREAT BONANZA. 



driven bj a powerful steam engine. Each 
weighed nearly eight hundred pounds, and 
kept up a ceaseless ponderous dance in an iron 
box, called a battery, into which trickled a mi- 
nute stream of water, which swept the finest 
of the gray mud through a thin wii-e screen 
into the amalgamating pans — great 'jacket- 
ed ' tubs of metal kept hot with super-heated 
steam. In these constantly revolved huge 
muUers, which intimately mixed the pastj'^ ore 
with the mercury which was frequently sifted 
into the pans, and seized every particle of pu- 
rified gold and silver. Salt and sulphate of 
copper were used to destroy the admixture of 
baser metals, and the constant flow of turbid 
water which ran from the pans was carried off 
in broad wooden troughs, called ' sluices,' lined 
with coarse woolly blankets, and obstructed 
with ' riffles,' or small horizontal troughs filled 
with quicksilver, to arrest the minute particles 
of silver, which would otherwise have been 
lost to a large amount. 

" Every week the woi-kmen at the mill 
' cleaned up.' Clearing the crisp, heavily-laden 
quicksilver from the pasty mud which it had 
robbed of its treasures, they made it up into 
large balls, which wei'e afterwards placed in a 
retort, whose heat soon dissipated the mercury 
in vapor, leaving behind only a compact lump 
of frosty, glistening, spongy gold and silver. 
Of course care was taken not to lose the quick- 
silver, which was saved by cooling it in a con- 
denser, and gathering it in a I'eservoir of 
water. 

"In 1870 I had worked five years at silver 
mining. Hunter was now the agent of the 
company in his native city. Scales had dab- 
bled in stocks in other mines, ' struck it rich,' 
and gone 'home' to England. Sam was in 
his place, and I had taken Hunter's, while 
Schaeffer still stuck manfully to the task of 
making the ' Consolidated ' pay. 

" The outlook was poor, for our expenses 
were enormous, and heavy dividends, paid in 
periods of transitory success, had reduced the 
resources of the mine at a critical period. 

" One night Schaeffer came home to our 
'bachelor's hall' in despair. 

" ' Everyting goes against us. De ore in 
de fourteen hundred foot drift gets worse and 
worse, and seems to pay less than reducing 
rates.' 

"To understand Avhat follows, you will re- 
member that we were working for a vast cor- 
poration, comprising thousands of stockhold- 
ers, holding shares whose nominal value was 
one hundred dollars apiece. The owners, 
managers, and even the workmen, had a right 



to buy stock ; and for some years Schaeffer 
had invested the most of his earnings in the 
stock of the company, which was now at about 
eight dollars per ' foot.' 

" I tried to cheer him up ; but he seemed to 
have given up all hope, for the abandonment 
of the mine would leave him almost penniless. 
Suddenly we heard a rush of men outside, and 
a call for the superintendent; and a second 
later a man rushed in sobbing as if his heart 
would break. 

" 'What's the matter. Jack.*" said I; 'any- 
thing wi-ong at the mine.?' 

" ' Matter enough ! ' said the fellow, a rough 
miner, who had been Sam's favorite workman, 
though no one else cared to have anything to 
do with him. ' The cross-drift from the new 
winze ' (a narrow shaft not a pai-t of the main 
shaft) • has caved in, and Sam Nevins is 
killed!' 

" ' Mein Gott! Was ungluck is das.?' cried 
the German, awakened from the contempla- 
tion of his own misfortunes. ' Here, Jack, 
how did it happen ? Tell it to me quick. Per- 
haps dere is yet a hope.' 

" 'I'm afraid it's all upAvith poor Sam. How- 
ever, I'll soon tell 3'ou all that I know. You 
see, Sam set Johnson and I to sink this winze, 
an' one day he came down, an' after takin' a 
look at the rock, he said, "Jack, cut a drift 
thar." Wal, we ran in about twenty feet, an' 
pillared it up, for thar was a hangin' wall, and 
things wasn't over safe. To-day Sam come 
down an' found Johnson coming out. " Whar 
ye goin', Johnson.?" said he. " Out o' this," 
ses Johnson : "them posts are cracking like 
all possessed, an' I just got a pelt of a stone 
from overhead." " All right," says Sam. " I'll 
go in for a moment; " and then he come in 
with Johnson's can'le and pick. 

" ' Wal, I'd been at work along the hangin' 
wall, and had made a little hole to the south- 
'ard, jist about large enough to sit up an' work 
in. He just gin a look at the hangin' wall, 
an' got into the little cove, when I heard him 
say something. I stooped to listen, when 
about a bushel of fragments dropped on my 
back, an' I heard the posts rippin' an' crackin' 
all round me. All I remember is, dodgin' an' 
twistin' amojng them props, and reachin' the 
winze just in time to be hauled up by Johnson 
before the hull cross-drift caved in.' 

" ' Come on, men ! ' said Schaeffer, seizing 
his hat: and following his example, we rushed 
to the mine, and descended to the level from 
whence the exploring shaft had been sunk. 

" It was now filled up, the earth and rock 
having fallen away from the receding wall, 



23 



THE GREAT BONANZA, 



which laj bare where a wide crevice marked 
the line of cleavage. 

" 'Jack, will you risk jour life on the 
chance?' said Schaeffer, kindly. 

" The stout niiner never faltered or hesi- 
tated. 

" ' Ef it Avas quicksand or wet clay, which 
it isn't, he'd do as much for me.' 

" ' Den follow down dat crevice, dere, and 
dig close to de rock ; ' and, after a few short 
questions and answers, the skilled miner set 
the proper direction, and several men com- 
inenced digging rapidly in the range indicated. 

"At first the work was easy and compara- 
tively safe ; but by morning, when they struck 
the broken supports, the loose earth and frag- 
ments of rock threatened every moment to 
bury our friend and his would-be saviors in 
one common tomb. Finally Jack cried out 
that we had found him ; and we drew up the 
limp, insensible body, and afterwards the mi- 
ner, worn out with fatigue and sorrow. 

" A litter was improvised, and the body of 
our friend taken to the shaft, where it Avas 
raised to the surface and carried to the house. 
For a long time all efforts at resuscitation 
failed ; but at last Sam knew us ; and the doc- 
tor said that he would live. 

" I watched with him that day, and about 
noon he woke and seemed to know me. He 
tried to speak, but all that I could distinguish 
was ' Look here ; buy stock; ' and he motioned 
to his breast, and then again sank into a kind 
of doze. " His clothes lay on the chair beside 
me ; and taking his rough vest, I tried the 
inner pocket. It was full of a curious black 
material, of a friable nature, and among it 
were one or two lumps of an opaque, horn- 
like substance, whose weight bore witness to 
its mineral nature. We had ' struck it rich ' at 
last. It was native chloride of silver. 

"I called Schaeffer in, and showed him the 
specimens. I shall never forget how he lis- 
tened impatiently to my story of where I pro- 
cured it, and how he .embraced me when he 
found that Sam's nearly fatal adventure had 
brought us the fortune we had almost de- 
spaired of. 

" I got leave to go to San Francisco at once, 
for the day we had long been preparing for 
had come. For ten years Sam and I had saved 
our joint earnings ; for ever since the day 
when we broke open the stone-ware money- 
box we have had one purse. 

" We were worth about fifteen thousand dol- 
lars, and before the end of the week I had 
bought at the broker's board fifteen hundred 
shares of ' Consolidated ' stock. It cost on an 



average ten dollars a share. Two weeks later 
the shares had gone up to fifty dollars. I want- 
ed to unload ; but Sam kept run of the lead, 
and told me to hold on. 

"We sold out at two hundred dollars, and 
made, of course, nearly three hundred thou- 
sand dollars. Since then we have bought and 
sold stocks, and have manipulated millions of 
dollars. We vowed to ruin you ; but, happily, 
we learned in time of your ill health and 
changed feelings towards me. Your shares 
in ' Ophir ' are a good investment, and, if 
you hold on patiently, you will regain your 
losses." 

The night shades had begun to gather. 
Squire Amory rose to go in, and the rest fol- 
lowed his example. Laura alone stood look- 
ing to seaward from the rose-entwined porch. 
Edward suddenly joined her. 

" I must return to Nevada," said he, " un- 
less you can give a favorable answer to my 
question of last night." 

"You know, Edward, that I always loved 
you ; but my father may be taken away at any 
time ; and you have too much yonder to sac- 
rifice for me." 

"No, Laura, no; I do not think so. Wide- 
spread as are the ledges which stand where once 
curled the fiery waves of a molten sea ; deep 
as are the shafts which follow the narrow veins, 
shot with precious metals, to their central 
sources far below the reach of even man's 
tireless search for wealth ; vast as are the riches 
which still await the dauntless seeker, — still, 
contentment is the source of all happiness, 
and love is not to be sold for a little more 
gain." 

And later, when the whole earth was ring- 
ing with tidings of the vastwealth of the mines 
of Nevada, Edward Boyd sat one evening by 
the window, gazing abstractedly into the stai*- 
lit sky. His paper had fallen from his hands, 
and his young wife knew what had taken pos- 
session of his heart. With the little Edward 
in her arms, she glided to his side. 

" Are you sorry that you did not go back.'"' 
she said, tenderly. 

The vision of the fierce conflict of warring 
interests and 'splendid successes, which had 
tempted him for a moment, faded away, and 
the flush passed from his face as he answered, — 

" I have enough and to spare, and all that 
can ennoble the soul or enlarge the under- 
standing is spread out before me. Why should 
I care to leave home and friends, and a love 
beyond price, to join in yonder heartless strife, 
although the prize were the richest lead of 
The Great Bonanza.'" 



PETROLIA, 



23 



VACATION IN PETEOLIA. 

I. BOHnSTG FOK OIL. 

ARTHUR and Fred had an invitation from 
their uncle Charley to visit him in the 
X)il regions, and see how petroleum was taken 
from the depths: of the earth. Their parents 
consented to their spending " the Idng vaca- 
tion " there. They needed little baggage, ex- 
cept an old suit of clothes and a strong pair 
of boots, each — so their uncle wrote. Little 
Lulu wanted them to " brin' her some oil to 
dease her haa," and she carefully tucked a bot- 
tle into the corner of their trunk for that pur- 
pose. As they left their pleasant Massaf.hu- 
setts home, the last thing they saw was I^ulu 
laboriously waving a towel, in lack of a hand- 
kerchief; and the last thing they heard was her 
piped injunction, "Don't fordet my oi-el ! " 

Uncle Charley met them at Titusville, and 
went with them down Oil Creek. Leaving 
the cars a few miles below Titusville, they 
went by a road which wound its way among 
rocks and stunted trees up the steep mountain- 
sides, and reached the tract on which was 
uncle Charley's lease. They were amazed at 
the number of derricks they saw. There were 
derricks everywhere — on the level all along 
the creek, and scattered all up the steep sides, 
and on the very tops of the bluffs, in places 
where it did not seem possible for a derrick, 
or even a man, to stand. The greatest won- 
der of all was how, men ever raised the big 
engines and ponderous machinery to places 
where one could not climb without grasping 
roots and shrubs to keep from falling. 

Arthur said the derricks looked like skele- 
tons of pyramids. 

"No," said Fred; "they look like frames 
to build lots of Bunker Hill Monuments with." 

On the tract where uncle Charley's lease is 
there were thirty wells drilling or in opera- 
tion, and the scene was one of life and interest, 
instead ofthe wildness and desolation they had 
expected to see. The forest of spectre-looking 
derricks, the smoke and steam of the engines, 
the clatter of bull-wheels, the " whir " of 
sand-pump reels, the shouts of teamsters and 
miners, the constant coming and going of 
mud-bespattered men in long boots, some 
prospecting for leases, some buying and some 
selling oil, others arranging for the boring of 
new wells, — all this made up a strange and 
exciting life. 

The boys took a deep interest in the busi- 
aess, and begged to stay at the wells all the 
time, instead of at Titusville, with an occa- 
sional visit to the wells, as their father had 



planned. Uncle Char'^y. who remembered 
his own boyhood better than most men, and 
appreciated a boy's love of adventure, in- 
dorsed their petition, saying, " Why, let 
'em stay, John. They can get their meals 
at the boarding-house with the men, and I 
will have a bunk built for them in the shanty 
where the rest sleep, and I warrant they will 
like it. They wouldn't be easy in Titusville a 
day, after catching the excitement ofthe busi- 
ness. Me7i who taste this life want to stay 
in it." 

So it was arranged, and the boys enjoyed it 
from first to last. Their mother's anxiety 
about their health, in such an unaccustomed, 
rough mode of life, was groundless. Every- 
body was well. The men attributed it to the 
oil with which they were covered, and the gas 
of which thej' breathed. One of them told 
the boj's that, if they wanted to enjoy good 
health, they should take a swim every morn- 
ing in one of the tubs of black, odorous 
grease. Probably the bracing air, pure water, 
active, rugged life, and plain fare, had as much 
to do with good health as the oil and gas. 

The men who had the contract to bore 
uncle Charley's well were just beginning oper- 
ations. The boys soon were on intimate terms 
with them, and asked many questions. They 
made themselves quite useful in handing tools 
and nails, and going on errands; and, as they 
were well-behaved boys, abroad as well as at 
home, and took care not to get in the way, the 
workmen were glad to have them there. 

The first thing was building the derrick. 
They commenced by nailing strips of plank 
together at the two edges, forming a half 
square. Fred asked if those were troughs to 
run the oil in. The men smiled, and said 
they were for the corners of the derrick. Four 
of these they set up on end twenty feet apart, 
leaning them a little towards each other, and 
spiked strong cross-pieces and braces from one 
to the other. Then another section was built 
on the top of this, in the same way, still leaning 
towards the centre, until, when the derrick was 
fifty-six feet high, it nearly came to a peak in 
the centre. On the top they fixed two iron 
pulleys. Then they laid a strong floor in the 
derrick, and nailed pieces at one corner to make 
a ladder to the top, and the derrick was fin- 
ished. 

Arthur and Fred were as much delighted 
with the tower as if they had built it them- 
selves; and, indeed, they had helped. Arthur 
climbed the ladder, and stood on the pulley- 
frame at the top. A mixed panorama was 
spread out before him. Far away extended 



24 



PETROLIA, 



the valleys of Oil Creek and the Alleghany 
River, with the Allegl any Mountains on each 
side. All the expanse of mountain and val- 
ley was dotted with derricks and engine- 
houses. Even beyond where he could dis- 
tinguish these he could tell the location of 
many oil wells by the puffs of steam, which 
made white flecks on the dark background. 
He gave three cheers for the new derrick, in 
which Fred joined from below, and then went 
down. How would his mother feel if she had 
known what he was doing! 

Fred wanted to go up also; but his uncle, 
thinking he was too small for such a ven- 
ture, told him that he might buy a flag the 
next time he went to Titusville, and hoist 
it at the top of the derrick, and then he could 
claim the only American flag on that tract. 
Fred did this the very next day. One of the 
men put at the peak a slender flag-stafi:' for him, 
and the stars and stripes made a fine appear- 
ance, Fred thought. "I am Columbus!" 
cried he; "and I have taken possession of 
this oil country, and raised the American flag 
in the name of the Continental Congress." 
Fred's history was a little out of joint, but he 
was as enthusiastic as a man who discovers a 
new country and makes history. 

The boys then went with a gang of men 
into the woods to cut timber. They felled 
several large trees. First they hewed a stick 
fifteen inches square, and cut it off thirteen 
feet long; and cut a tenon on one end. This, 
the men said, was the samson-post. Fred 
thought it was strong enough to be called 
" Samson." 

Then they hewed out two more lai-ge tim- 
bers, and cut them fourteen feet long. These 
they fitted together like a cross, and cut a 
mortise in the centre where the sticks crossed. 
These were the bed-timbers for the samson- 
post, and the mortise was to receive the ten- 
on of it. All these were hauled to the der- 
rick. The cross-timbers were firmly bedded 
in the ground by digging, and the samson- 
post set up in the mortise. Strong braces 
were set up from each end of the bed-timbers 
to the top of the post, and spiked there. All 
this made the post very firm. 

"Now," said Mr. Bowers, the foreman of 
the work, "we must cut a walking-beam." 

Fred thought he meant a cane, and asked 
his uncle where they were going, that they 
needed walking-sticks. 

Uncle Charley said the right name of the 
stick vras " ■worki)ig--hQam." This was hewed 
out twenty-four feet long, ten by sixteen inches 
in sizj at the middle, and tapering out to eight 
inche j square at either end. 



Now they bolted an iron to the top of the 
samson-post, and on the middle of the walk- 
ing-beam another iron to fit into it. Then, 
with all the help they could get, they raised 
the beam up to the top of the samson-post, 
and balanced it there, by fitting the irons to- 
gether so it would rock easily. The post and i 
working-beam were so placed that one end of 
the beam was in the derrick, over its centre 
the spot where the well must be. 

" O, what a splendid teeter!" cried Fred. 
And he and Arthur climbed up the braces of 
the samson-post to the top of the working- 
beam, "hitched" along to the ends, and 
"see-sawed" a long time. 

While all this work (and play) had been 
going on, teams had hauled the steam-engine 
and other machinery from the railroad up to 
the derrick. 

" Now," said Mr. Bowers, " we'll put up the 
bull-wheel." 

The bull-wheel had been brought, ready-' 
made, from Titusville. It is a turned shaft of 
wood, eight inches in diameter, and eight feet 
long, with a six-feet wheel set on near each 
end. The spokes of the wheels were left un- 
covered at the end, so that the men could take 
hold to turn the shaft, as a pilot does the wheel 
by which he steers a boat. The sides of the 
wheels facing each other were boarded up 
smoothly, so that the arms would not catch 
the rope while winding it on the shaft between 
the wheels. On the outside of one of the 
wheels was fastened a large grooved pulley; 
this was to receive a rope-belt from the engine 
to drive the bull-wheel. The men hung the 
bull-wheel by iron journals, or gudgeons, in 
each end of its shaft, so it would turn freely. 
It was placed in a frame between the legs of 
the derrick, at the side opposite to the work- 
ing-beam. 

Arthur and Fred set to work to wind the 
drill-rope on the bull-wheel shaft. As this 
was a heavv cable, one and a half inches in 
diameter and several hundred feet long, it took 
the boys a long time to coil it on the shaft; 
but they persevered, and finally got it nicely 
wound. They called it their kite-line and 
spool, and tried to guess how large a kite the 
cable would hold. 

The next thing was the band-wheel. This 
is set in a strong frame, called the jack-frame, 
and placed so that one end of the band-wheel 
shaft comes directly under one end of Ihe 
working-beam — that end which is out of the 
derrick. The band-wheel is six feet in diame- 
ter, and has a six-inch face, on which is to be 
placed the driving-belt of the engine. On one 
side of the wheel is a grooved pulley, like thai 



P E T R O L I A . 



25 



on the bull-wheel, on which the rope-belt is to 
be i"un. On one end of the band-wheel shaft 
is a crank, which is to be connected with the 
end of the working-beam above by a pitman ; 
when the crank turns and the pitman is on, it 
will work the beam up and down. 

On the side of the band-wheel farthest from 
the derrick they set up the sand-pump reel. 
As this reel is to wind a smaller i-ope on, it is 
made smaller than the bull- wheel shaft. The 
sand-pump reel is turned by a friction-pulley 
on one end of it. The pulley can be moved 
in its frame, and made to bear against the face 
of the band-wheel at a point where the driv- 
ing-belt does not touch the face of the wheel. 
The frame of the reel is moved by a lever in 
the derrick, so as to force the friction-pulley 
against the band-wheel, or take it off and stop 
the reel, at the pleasure of the man in the der- 
rick. As the friction-pulley is much smaller 
than the band-wheel, the sand-pump reel turns 
very fast when the friction-pulley is " in 
gear." 

After the reel was up the boys threw it " out 
of gear" by the lever in the derrick, and then 
they reeled the sand-pump rope on. 

The engine and boiler were now put in place, 
a few feet from the band-wheel; a belt was 
put on from the driving-wheel of the engine 
to the band-wheel, and they were ready to 
"run." When the friction-pulley was forced 
against the band-wheel the sand-pump reel 
would turn. When the pitman was put on the 
crank of the band-wheel the working-beam 
would rock on the samson-post. When the 
rope-belt was put on the band-wheel the bull- 
wheel would turn and wind up the drill-rope. 
Thus the band-wheel could be used in three 
ways. 

An engine-house was now built over the 
engine, and a little shed over the band-wheel 
and band to protect them. In the engine- 
house they also put up a blacksmith's forge, 
Rvhere they could mend their tools, sharpen 
the drills, &c. 

In the derrick they built a shed to shield the 
men from the weather, and from the mud, 
water, and oil, which would drip from the 
ropes and tools when drawn out of the well. 

The first step in sinking the well, the hoys 
learned, is to drive pipe. As far down as there 
is only earth or small stones, and until solid rock 
is met, iron pipe can be driven without drilling. 
To drive this pipe, the workmen set up in the 
centre of the derrick two strong plank slide- 
ways, twenty feet high, fifteen inches apart, 
taking care to make them perfectlj^ perpendic- 
ular, and fasten them securely. Between these 





they hung a heavy pile-driver. The loose end 
of the drill-rope was now carried up to the top 
of the derrick, passed through the big pulley, 
and down to the battering-ram between the 
slide- ways. 

The drive-pife is cast-iron, 
six inches inside diameter, and 
of various lengths, the walls 
or shell of the cylinder being 
about an inch thick. Fred 
said a piece would make a 
good cannon, if one end 
oould be plugged up and a 
vent made. Arthur thought it 
looked like Lord Rosse's tele- 
scope ; as neither of the boys 
had ever seen a big telescope, 
they agreed that the pipe did 
look like one. 

The end of the pipe first stall- 
ed into the ground is shod with 
steel, that it may better force 
its way ; and the upper end 
is protected by a driving-cap, 
so that the pipe may not be 
battered or broken in driving. 

The first length of pipe was 
now set up between the slide- 
ways, and the belt-rope run 
on the bull-wheel. The heavy 
ram was thus drawn up to the 
slide-ways, whei-e a " stop " 
knocked the rope loose from 
the ram, and it fell, with a 
powerful blow, on the top of 
the drive-pipe. By repeating 
this process, the pipe was 
forced downward. 

" Do you care if it don't go 
down straight.'"' asked Arthur. 

Mr. Bowers, who is a Yan- 
kee, answered, '• Well, I rather 
guess I do. If it leans the least bit, I must 
straighten it up; or if I can't do that, I should 
have to pull it all up, and start in a new place. 
If it isn't " plumb," we can't get the drilling- 
tools through; or if they went through, they 
would keep sticking. I must keep testing the 
uprightness of the pipe with this spirit-level." 

"If 3'ou strike a stone, then what will you 
do.?" asked Fred. 

" If it is a small stone, the pipe will crowd 
it aside into the earth. If it is large, we 
shall have to drill a hole through it for the 
pipe. If the pipe strikes the edge or shelving 
side of a boulder, the pipe may be forced 
aside, or even broken — though I must keep 
watch for that." 




Drive-pipe. 



26 



PETROLIA. 






" How can you tell when it strikes a stone ? " 
" O, I can tell by the sound of the blows. 
I can tell about how large the stone is. We 
shall soon be down to the bed-rock ; and if 
30U listen, you can tell when we strike it." 
" What is the bed-rock.?" asked Arthur. 
" Should think rocks would make a pretty 
hard bed," interrupted Fred. 

" The bed-rock," answered the miner, " is 
the first rock we come to." 

"And how can you 
tell how near you are 
to the rock .-" " asked Ar- 
thur. 

" Because w^e have 
driven nineteen feet of 
pipe, and none of the 
wells around here drive 
more than twentj'-four 
feet," answered Mr. Bow- 
ers. "In some places they 
drive seventy-five or one 
hundred feet of pipe." 

After a little while the 
boys noticed the report 
of the ram changed from 
a dull, heavy sound to 
a sharper, ringing blow. 

" Ah ! " cried Arthur, 
" there is the bed-rock." 

" Yes ; stop driving ! " 
shouted Fred, as prompt- 
ly as if he were foreman. 

And the driving was 
immediately stopped, as 
Fred ordered. 

"Arthur," said Mr. 
Bowers, "can you 
write.'' " 

"Ho!" said Arthur, 
quite indignantly; "I 
should think I ought 
to. Fred can write, and 
he is only a little boy." 

Fred looked up at Ar- 
thur to see if Arthur 
really was so much big- 
ger than himself as his 
talk indicated. 

" Can you keep 
books.'" continued Mr. 
Bowers. 

"Yes, sir; I have 
studied book-keeping." 

" Well, we'll appoint 

you book-keeper. In the 

box in the shanty is a 

Rope Socket, blank book. On the page 



where I have set down the date on which we 
commenced to drive pipe, you may set down 
the date of this day that we struck bed-rock, 
and the number of feet of pipe." 

Arthur did so; and he kept a complete rec- 
ord of each step of the work, describing the 
kind of rock they met, and the depth at which 
they found anything peculiar. The pipe being 
down to the rock, the ram was taken down, 
and the slides torn away. The earth was now 
cleaned out of the pipe, and the drilling-tools 
brought in. At first the hole was not deep 
enough to take in all the tools, but they soon 
drilled, with part of them, deep enough to ad- 
mit all ; then the work proceeded faster. 

First, a forked iron, called the Rope-Socket, 
was fastened over and around the end of the 
drill-rope. The rope-socket had a thread cut 
on the lower end. On this was screwed a 
ponderous iron bar two and a half inches in 
diameter and eight feet in length, called the 
Sinker-Bar. CSee preceding column.) 

" Now bring on the jars," said 
the foreman. 

Fred immediately thought of his 
mother's preserves, and anticipated 
something nice to eat. Instead of 
that, the men screwed on at the 
bottom of the sinker-bar a heavy 
machine that looked like two loops 
or links out of an immense chain. 
They were forged of two inch 
square steel ; the slit in the loops 
was about two feet long and two 
inches wide. They were inter- 
locked, as in a chain, and on the 
free end of each was the necessary 
thread for screwing into 
the other tools. 

On the lower end of the ^g 
jars, as they hung by the 
rope, was screwed the 
greatest piece yet. It is 
twenty-two feet long, and 
of the same thickness as 
the sinker-bar. It needed 
a good many men to carry 
it. They call it the Auger- 
Stem. 

" Now," said Mr. Bow- 
ers, "we'll put on the 
Centre-Bit, and down she 
goes." 

The Bit is three feet 

long, flattened and made 

sharp and hard at the end. 

The boys called the tools 

over in their order : Rope- 3it% 



PETROLIA. 



27 



socket, Sinker-bar, Jars, Auger-Stem, and 
Centre-bit. When thej were all on, they 
reached from the floor of the derrick to the 
pulley at the top. Each joint was screwed 
very tight with two monstrous wrenches, so 
that they might not work apart in the well. 
" Why are they made so long.' " asked Fred. 
"To o-et weight to force the bit down. We 
can't have them any thicker than two and a 
half inches, and so we get the weight in the 
length." 

" How much do they weigh } " 
"About fifteen hundred pounds." 

A very curious machine was 
now attached by a simple rod 
to the end of the working- 
beam over the well. It is 
called a Temper- Sc7'e%u. It 
had a square loop to fit over 
the end of the working-beam. 
A screw three feet long worked 
in a thin iron frame, through 
a nut at the bottom of the 
frame ; the screw is turned in 
the frame, and thus raised or 
lowered, by means of a handle 
in the head of it. Hanging 
from the head of the screw- 
were two links and a clamp, 
operated by a set- screw, by 
which the temper-screw could 
be securely clamped and fas- 
tened on the drill-rope at an}' 
place. 

The boys quickly saw how 
all this was operated. The 
lever that held the bull-wheel 
stationary was raised, and the 
drilling tools began to descend 
rapidly into the well, uncoil- 
ing the cable very fast ; one 
of the men held a brake hai-d 
against the face of the bull- 
wheel to regulate the speed. When all the 
tools had passed down, so that the bit was 
near the bottom of the well, the bull-wheel 
was stopped by means of the brake, and the 
temper-screw clamps fastened to the cable. 
Now the tools hung on the temper-screw and 
working-beam, instead of on the bull-wheel ; 
considerable slack of the cable was pulled 
down, and coiled upon the floor, and left 
hanging below the temper-screw. 

As soon as the engine was set in motion, 
the working-beam began to rock and work 
the tools up and down in the tube about 
thirty times a minute, notwithstanding they 
■weighed nearly a ton. One of the workmen 







Boring for Oil. 



climbed up on a tall stool to regulate the 
drill. 

" Is it boring now.?" asked Arthur. 

"No; the bit doesn't cut the rock, but I 
will soon make it strike; " and he commenced 
to lower the tools by turning down t^ie tem' 
per- screw. 

"Now it strikes," said he, presently. But 
he still kept turning down the temper-screw. 



2S 



PETROLIA, 



'* Then -why do you turn it down any more?" 
asked Arthur, anxiously. 

"So the jars will work," he replied; "I 
must have slack enough so the upper jar will 
slide down about six inches into the lower 
one; then, on the upward motion the jars 
come together with a heavy blow. This starts 
the drill loose. It would wedge in every time, 
if it was not knocked loose by the blow of the 
jars. No power could be relied on to draw it 
out by steady pulling."' 

" O," cried Fred, clapping his hands ; " now 
I see ; you call them jars because they Jar the 
tools loose." 

" Exactly," replied the driller; 
" and I can make it jar as much 
or as little as I please with the 
temper-screw." 

"Ah," said Arthur, briskly; 
" don't you see, Freddy, they 
call it a temper-screw because it 
tempers the stroke of the drill 
going down, and the stroke of 
the jars coming up." 

" I can feel the jar on the rope, 
and know how much jar I have 
on," said the driller. 

The boys put their hands on 
the rope, and could feel distinctly 
the concussion of the jars in the 
well. They could also feel it on 
the other end of the working- 
beam by laying their hands on 
the pitman. 

The driller kept turning the 
drill-rope so the bit would not 
strike twice in the same place, 
and thus worked the hole but 
nearly round. As fast as the 
well deepened he lowered the 
drill, keeping the same amount 
of jar. 

There Avas water in the well 
several feet deep, which kept the 
drill cool as it worked. 

" I know what that is for," said 
Arthur; "so the drill will not 
heat, lose its temper, and get 
soft." 

" Drills are like boys," said 
uncle Charley; "they are not 
good for much if they lose their 
temper." 

The bit having now worked its 
way into the rock the length of 
the temper-screw, it had to stop. 
The temper-screw clamp taken 
SandFninp off the drill-rope, the bull-wheel 



was set in motion again, and the tools drawn 
out of the well. They were left hanging on 
the drill-rope, being drawn one side, out of 
the way, by a cord tied to the side of the der- 
rick. 

" Now for the sand-pump to bring up the 
chips," said Mr. Bowers. 

The Sand-Pump is a cylinder, usually made 
of galvanized iron, three inches inside diam- 
eter and eight feet long, with a valve at the 
lower end and a bale at the upper end. This 
bale was hung on a hook tied to the end of 
the smaller rope, which went over a pulley at 
the top of the derrick, and coiled around the 
sand-pump reel. 

As the sand-pump descended in the well the 
rope uncoiled very fast. When it reached bot- 
tom, one of the men took hold of the rope, and 
churned it up and down, to fill it with chips 
through the valve in the bottom of the pump. 

Arthur now took hold of the lever that 
moved the reel, and brought the friction-pul- 
ley up hard against the bull-wheel. The reel 
commenced to re-wind the rope, and the sand- 
pump quickly came up — not full of "chips" 
of wood, as Fred had expected — but of water 
thick with mud and sand, made of pulverized 
rock. It was sent down again and again, until 
the mud was all out. 

Then the centre-bit was taken off the auger- 
stem, and a reamer screwed on in place of it. 
The cutting end of the reamer is round, with 
two notches in it like teeth. This is to smooth 
off and round the irregular hole left by the bit. 

The reamer was worked as the bit had been 
until it had finished off the well as far down 
as the bit had cut. Then the sand-pump took 
out the chips of the reamer, and they were 
ready to make another advance downward 
with the bit. 

So they went on, drilling and sand-pump- 
ing, never stopping, night or day — unless 
something was wrong with the machinery. 
Three times the tools got " stuck " in the rock, 
and once the drill-rope broke, and left the tools 
in the well. 

One da}^ Mr. Bowers came out of the der- 
rick, and said, " We have got to go fishing." 

" O, goodey ! " cried Fred ; " I speak to go." 

He soon found they had got to fish the tools 
out of the well. They did this with an iron 
that had strong barbs or teeth on it, to run 
down beside the rope-socket in the well, and 
hook over it, and thus bring it up, with the 
tools after it. At one time they fastened to 
one piece, and unscrewed it and brought it 
up; then they ran an extra pair of jars down, 
screwed on the top of the sinker-bar, and then 



P E T R O L I A . 



29 



jaried all the tools loose, and brought thern 
up. Little stones got loose, rattled down, and 
wedged in between the tools and the rock, and 
this was one cause of the stoppage. Some- 
times, the bojs were told, men work for weeks, 
and then can't get the tools out, and have to 
abandon the well, and lose all they have done, 
and their tools besides. 

Arthur wrote down the number of feet they 
drilled each day. Sometimes it would be 
twenty-five or thirty feet in twenty-four hours. 
When they got down three hundred and 
twenty-five feet, they struck the first sand- 
rock. This was white, and very hard, so that 
they progressed only six or eight feet in a day. 
But this was only nine feet thick, so that they 
were soon through it, and in the softer shale- 
rock again* 

Occasionally the tools had to be sharpened 
and tempered over again. 

Another thing that Arthur learned was how 
to regulate the engine. He soon was able 
to start or stop it by turning the throttle- 
valve ; he could tell when the water was right 
in the boiler by the trj'-cocks, and knew when 
there was steam enough by the steam-gauge. 
Arthur got so familiar with these things that 
he proposed to the engineer to take the whole 
charge of the engine, and let the engineer 
have only the fires to attend to. To this the 
engineer gravely assented, and Arthur was in- 
stalled on a stool, where he could reach the 
throttle-valve. 

Fred knew how to make paper windmills. 
He made a large number, and fastened them 
all along the working-beam. The motion of 
the beam made wind enough to drive the mills. 
Fred's flag and windmills gave the " rig " quite 
a fantastic appearance ; everybody noticed 
'hem, and soon began to call that the " Flag- 
imd-Windmill Well," and this was the name it 
was known by ever afterwards. 

Fred and Arthur made themselves so useful, 
and became such favorites with the men, that 
one day Mr. Bowers told uncle Charley that 
he thought the boj'S ought to be given an in- 
terest in the well. Uncle Charley smiled, and 
said, "Well, I will give Arthur the first ten 
and Fred the second ten barrels over each 
five hundred per day." At this the men all 
laughed ; as no well on that tract had yet 
gone over one hundred and fifty barrels, they 
thought uncle Charley's off"er rather a joke on 
the boys. One of the men asked Fred how 
much he would take for a sixteenth of his in- 
terest. It proved something better than a 
joke, however, in the end. 

One day, after they had gone below the fi.rst 
VOL. IX. — NO. 212. 13 



sand-rock, the boys saw bubbles floating on 
the water, and mud emptied from the sand- 
pump. "Hallo!" cried Fred; "have you 
struck soap-suds ? " 

The men said they had often heard of soap- 
mines, but never saw anything nearer it than 
soap-s^oue in a well, and added that the bub- 
bles were gas from oil veins. 

Mr. Bowers asked if they saw anything else 
on the water. Fred said he saw some green 
paint. 

"That is oil," said Mr. Bowers. 

"Hurrah! we've struck oil!" shouted the 
boys ; and, without waiting to hear more, they 
rushed away to tell the operators at the neigh- 
boring wells, some of whom had repeatedly 
declared that the " Flag-and-Windmill Well" 
would never produce anything du^ flags and 
windmills — not even gas enough to blow 
them. 

Some of these men tried to buy the boys' 
interest in the oil they were crowing over, but 
the boys positively declined to name a price. 

They soon found, however, that all gas anel 
oil found above the "third sand" does not 
amount to anything, and only constitutes what 
oil-men call "a show." 

At the depth of five hundred and thirty feet 
they struck the second sand, ten feet thick, and 
then the pump came up nearly full of oil. 

When they had gone down six hundi'ed and 
fifty feet they reached the third sand. This 
rock consists of many little white pebbles, 
from a very small size to as large as a pea. 
Fred said these pebbles, mixed with the dark 
oil, looked like pea-nut candy. The rock was 
very hard, which the men said indicated that 
good oil would be found there, if any. The 
drill went down slowly; gas puffed and whis- 
tled in the well, and the sand-pump brought 
out more and more stronger "shows" every 
time. Uncle Charley and their father were 
there all the time now, night and day, and 
drillers were constantly coming from other 
wells to see what encouragement there was 
for them. 

Uncle Charley directed the men to keep 
their lanterns at a distance from the hole, and 
ordei-ed pails of water to be constantly stand- 
ing in the engine-house. 

" What is that for? " the boys asked. 

" So the gas shall not take fire," said their 
uncle. "Sometimes the drill opens a cavern 
filled with gas and oil, and they rush up sud- 
denly; if the gas takes fire, and the oil catches, 
there is no stopping it. A few years ago a 
well commenced to spout, and the gas spread 
so that it took fire from the fire-box of an 



30 



PETROLIA, 



engine one hundred and fifty feet distant, be- 
fore the men could run there to put the fire 
out. The gas and oil filled the air so sudden- 
ly with flames that thirty men were burned to 
death. It was several days before the fire 
could be put out. On the Alleghany there is 
a well which has been burning six or seven 
years; it lights up all the country round." 

Slowly they worked through the third sand. 
Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty- 
five, thirty-six, thirty-seven feet, Arthur had 
put down in his " log-book." He was writing 
this when he heard Mr. Bowers shout, — 

" She don i Jar ! She's strtick ! " 

Arthur ran into the derrick. The drill rose 
and fell without striking bottom. It was play- 
ing in a cavitj'. The men instantly ran to put 
out the fire under the boiler; all pipes and 
cigars were ordered out. A noise came from 
the well like wind rushing through a knot- 
hole. 

The news of the strike had spread, and 
hundreds of excited men were hurrying to 
the " Flag-and-Windmill Well." Fred and 
Arthur climbed a little way up the ladder of 
the derrick to see. A good many men also 
.stood on the cross-pieces and braces of the 
derrick, to get a better view at the critical 
moment when the tools should be drawn. 

•' Have you got steam enough left to raise 
the tools.''" shouted Mr. Bowers. 

" I guess so," responded the engineer. 

But they didn't need the steam, for the bull- 
wheel had but fairly commenced to wind the 
tools up, when the cable suddenly ran slack, 
and the bull-wheel, relieved of the weight of 
the tools, spun round like a top. 

Uncle Charley, pale with excitement, cried, 
loudly, "Look out, look out, men! The tools 
are coming up alone." 

The men all ran out of the derrick; the 
boj's jumped off the ladder, and ran with 
them. 

They had hardly got down before the tools 
shot up out of the well, as if discharged from 
a mortar, sending the pulley-wheel spinning 
high above the derrick top. A loud report, 
like that of a columbiad, followed, with a con- 
cussion which bhook the ground as if by an 
earthquake, and knocked some of the nearest 
men prostrate. 

A stream of water, gas, and oil, the full size 
of the hole, spouted up nearly to the top of 
the derrick, with a roar louder than steam 
from the 'scape-pipe of a steamer. The roof 
of the shed was blown away, the boards flying 
like leaves in a gale. 

Men ran quickly to put out the fires at all 



the wells and shanties near. Oil and watei 
were now running down the hill-side in little 
torrents. Other men began with shovels to 
throw up a dam to stop the oil. The roar of 
the well and the shouts of the men made 
great confusion. 

In the midst of all this excitement, and 
phenomena of nature, Arthur and Fred, boy- 
like, were perfectly cool. Arthur crowded his 
way forward to where his uncle was working 
as if for dear life, under a fountain of water 
and oil, and, after much effort, succeeded in 
attracting his attention. And this was what 
he shouted : — 

"Uncle Charley, uncle Charley ! Will you 
tell us as soon as your five hundred barrels 
have got out, 'cause Fred and I want to build 
a dam to catch our oil ! " 

The men all laughed at Arthur's prompt- 
ness to look after his interest, and said, " That 
boy will make a great ' operator ' one of these 
days." 

"I guess your interest will be good for 
something, after all," said Mr. Bowers; "for 
the Flag-and-Windmill Well is good for one 
thousand barrels a day, at least." 

"Then we'll get twenty barrels apiece each 
day," said Arthur to Fred. "Ain't you glad 
we du<j the well now, Fred.-"' 




P E T R O L I A , 



31 



PART II 



BOATING OIL. — "POND FRESHETS.' 




HE owners of the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well found that, 
great as had been their la- 
bor, expense, and anxietj'' in 
findingthe oil, their greatest 
task was jet to come. Thej 
had secured the coveted 
treasure in such prodigious 
quantities, and so unexpectedly, that, like the 
man who bought an elephant, they did not 
know how to provide for it. Thei-e it was ; a 
roaring, foaming fountain, spouting, like a 
wounded w-hale, fifty feet high, filling the air 
with yellow spray, breaking into many colors, 
and forming wonderful rainbows in the sun, 
and deluging acres with oily wealth ; and no 
means at hand to secure it. Their troubles 
were similar to those of the old woman who 
lived in the shoe; they had so much oil they 
" didn't know what to do." 

The dams w^hich they began to throw up, to 
stop its running away down the mountain, 
saved but a part of it; hundreds of barrels 
ran to waste. Part of that which poured in 
little torrents down the steep hill was lost en- 
tirely. Some of it men and boys caught in 
little darns before it reached the creek, and 
dipped up into barrels, which they brought 
for that purpose. In this way they earned, or 
gained, from ten to forty dollars a day each. 

Nearly all the oil produced by the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well for several days would have 
been lost but for the kindness of the owners 
of small wells near it. They offered uncle 
Charley the use of their oil tanks until he 
could construct tanks of his own. The boys 
learned that, although oil operators are very 
eager in pursuit of wealth, and most of them 
seem to be pretty rough men, yet they wei-e at 
heart kind and generous towards others, as 
this off'er to uncle Charley proved. 

Uncle Charley gratefully accepted the use 
of the tanks for a day or two. His men laid 
lines of iron pipe — of which they had a large 
supply, provided beforehand — from the little 
pond of oil around the w^ell to two or three of 
the nearest tanks. As soon as this was done, 
and the storage for part of the oil temporarily 
provided, uncle Charley, with men and teams, 
started after tanks of his own. They went to 
a tract not far oflf, where there were several 
wells that had ceased to yield oil, and been 
abandoned, with their " rigs," engines, tanks, 
&c. Uncle Charley bought five of these aban- 



doned tanks, very cheap. Such tanks are 
built of wooden staves, like a tub, with im- 
mense iron hoops; some of them are fifteen 
feet high, and thirty feet across ; others are 
smaller, and some even larger. 

The men knocked the hoops off", took down 
the staves and bottom-boards, and loaded all 
on the wagons. By working that day and all 
night, they got the tanks all removed, and set 
up again near the Flag-and- Windmill Well, 
ready for use at daylight next morning. Thus 
they had to use the borrowed tanks only one 
day and one night. 

While this was going on, uncle Charley had 
sent Arthur (whom he had found he could 
trust with important business) to Titusville to 
order some more pipe, stop-cocks, a " goose- 
neck," "and other things needed at the well. 
When Fred heard the directions given to Ar- 
thur, he made the same mistake as when he 
first heard the drillers talk about jars; he con- 
cluded the " goose-neck " was something good 
to eat. Going quietly around to uncle Char- 
ley's side, he asked, " Can't Arthur just as 
well get turkeyf I like that better than goose." 
Uncle Charley was not too busy to laugh at 
this, although he 'cvas too busy to explain the 
diff'erence. When Arthur returned at night 
with the goose-neck, Fred thought, more than 
ever, that he preferred turkey; for the goose- 
neck was only a crooked piece, or elbow, of 
large iron pipe. This was to be screwed on the 
top of the drive-pipe in the well, and thus cause 
the stream of oil to turn aside into the tank. 

But how to put it on was the question. The 
rats had no trouble to get a bell; they were 
only puzzled to get it put on the cat's neck. 
The goose-neck could not have been very well 
put on during the first two days, while the 
powerful jet was spouting. The men at first 
tried to stop the stream entirely; that is. to 
hold the cat still while the bell was being 
put on. They tried to do it in this way: they 
took down the ponderous working-beam, and 
as many men as could take hold of it at the 
ends threw it over the mouth of the well, and 
tried to hold it there. The oil and water 
spirted and sprayed a hundred feet. out each 
side, making the crowd of spectators scatter 
as the boys had seen a crowd do at home, 
when the firemen in sport would turn on it 
a stream from the fire-engine. The working- 
beam, heavy as it was, was ^ent flying like a 
chip, in spite of the efforts of twenty men to 
hold it down on the well ; and the men them- 
selves were hurled in ever}' direction, as if 
they were mere insects. The}' crept out of 
the deluge of oil and water, looking like so 
many mice who had fallen into a kettle of 



32 



P E T R O L I A , 



grease. That way of belling the cat wasn't a 
success, except as an amusement to the look- 
ers on. 

After two or three days, however, the well 
seemed to abate its fury somewhat. Then it 
began to put on another curious appearance. 
It gradually changed from a steady flow to an 
interrupted, spasmodic action. For a few mo- 
ments it would spout with as great fury as 
ever; then it would gradually sink away; 
then, after a few moments of subsidence, in- 
crease in violence again. 

When the boys first noticed this, they be- 
caine alarmed for their oil interests, thinking' 
the well " was going to ^/c," as Fred ex- 
pressed it. But when they saw it each time 
revive, and show as much energy as ever, they 
became reassured as to its vitality. 

These periods of subsidence became more 
marked each time, until, in its quieter mo- 
ments, the well spouted no higher than a 
man's head. In one of these sleepy moments 
of the spouting monster they succeeded in 
screwing on the goose-neck, and attaching 
the pipe to it and the tanks. Now they had 
the monster under control. 

In about five minutes the well commenced 
to rage again; and, as if angered at being 
conquered, it seemed to spout with greater 
fury than ever. It roared and foamed in the 
tank, shaking the tub, and making the ground 
tremble in its violence; the contents of the 
tub were stirred and churned imtil it was 
nearly filled with yellow foam. 

Fred exercised his inclination for compari- 
sons by calling the tank " the giant's cup of 
soda-water," imagining the well to be the 
giant, and himself the little Jack-of-the-bean- 
stalk who had chained it. One of the men 
said it " looked more like all Dutchland's mug 
of lager bier." Each one used the figure he 
was most familiar with. 

Their troubles and labors were not ended 
with the completion of the tanks. A well 
pouring out a thousand barrels a day would 
soon fill all the tanks in the neighborhood, 
and then they would be in the same old- 
woman-in-the-shoe fix again. They must be- 
gin immediately to empty the tanks. 

The tanks were connected by pipes, so that 
when one was full it would overflow into 
another. Near the bottom of each tank was 
a faucet, by which the water could be drawn 
out from under the oil, leaving onlj- the latter 
in the tank. The boys saw that the different 
gravity of the two fluids made the process of 
separating them, — which they had antici- 
pated would be a very difficult one, — after 
all, very simple. 



[ 


J 


^^H^^^^^^^^^^I^^^^hI' 


m 







Towing up the empty Boats. 

Uncle Charley decided that the quickest way 
to get the oil oflF their hands and into market 
was by running it into boats in the creek, 
and sending it to Oil City, on the Alleghany 
River, at the mouth of Oil Creek. There 
were plentj^ of men there ready to buy the 
oil for shipment down the river to Pittsburg. 
At that time the railroad, so far as completed, 
was too far off", at its nearest point, to aflbrd a 
quick and easy outlet to market. 

Oil Creek is a broad, shallow stream. At 
its ordinary stage, flat-boats and barges, of 
light draught, can be towed up against its cur- 
i-ent by horses walking in the middle of the 
stream. It was severe labor, and working in 
the water soon took the hair off the poor ani- 
mals' legs, and in a very short time killed 
them. 

Uncle Charley and the boys went down to 
the creek to hire two boats to load with their 
oil — for Arthur and Fred were keeping close 
watch on their interest in the product of the 
well. They soon found two large, flat-bottomed 
boats, and hired them. The owner said he'd 
carry their oil to Oil City "for fifty cents — 
owner's risk." This, Arthur explained to 
Fred, meant he'd make the trip for as much 
as fifty cents a barrel would come to; but, if 
the oil got lost, the boatman would not be re- 
sponsible; it would be their loss, and they 
would have to pay for the use of the boats 
just the same as if the oil were delivered safe- 
ly. Fred didn't like this bargain, and insisted 
that the boatman should get nothing if he 
didn't carry the oil through all right. The 
boatman said, '-Very well, my little man; 
pay me seventy-five cents per barrel, and I'll 
guarantee delivery." 

" What do you say, boys.'' " asked uncle 
Charley. " Shall we pay twenty-five cents 



O 






o 

O 

o 

h-i 




PETROLIA. 



35 



more on the barrel, or run our own risk, and 
save that much if we get through all right. 
Remember that the extra price does not in- 
sure us against loss of oil. If we agree to 
pay seventy-five cents, and the oil is lost, we 
shall have no freight-bill to pay; the boatman 
will lose his trip, and we'll lose our oil only. 
He charges the twenty-five cents extra for -run- 
ning that risk." 

As the three proprietors of the oil did not 
agree as to the best plan of shipping, they 
adopted both ways. On one boat they agreed 
to pay fifty cents a barrel, whether it went 
through safely or not; on the other boat they 
agreed to pay seventy-five cents a barrel if it 
went through, or nothing if it was wrecked. 

The boats were towed up to a point on the 
creek opposite the Flag-and-VVindmill Well, 
and moored by strong cables to the bank. 
The boats were about one hundred feet long, 
eighteen feet wide, and twenty inches deep. 
The ends were square. The space in them 
was divided into compartments, and covered 
over tight with boards. It was thus divided 
up, the boys learned, so that the oil would 
carry more steadily. If the oil were put in 
one mass into the broad, shallow boat, it 
would get to swaying and rolling, and finally 
upset the boat — the same mishap they had 
often experienced on a smaller scale when 
trying to carry a shallow dish of water or 
other liquid. 

The boys learned that flat-boats are built 
on the streams that form the headwaters of 
the Alleghany, where lumber is plenty. They 
are loaded with shingles, furniture, and other 
merchandise, and floated down on high water, 
to be sold along the river. When empty they 
are used as oil boats. These two were built 
away up in "York State," near Chatauqua 
Lake, almost up to Lake Erie. Arthur had 
learned that the waters of the Alleghany, 
which finally empty into the Gulf of Mexico, 
• start near the same point where the waters 
spring which go into Lake Erie and thence 
empty into the Gulf of St. Lawrence; that 
only a narrow ridge at first divides the drops 
of water, which in the end reach the ocean so 
many thousand miles apart. 

As the land on which the Flag-and-Windmill 
Well was sunk was leased, not purchased, by 
uncle Charley, the oil did not all belong to 
him and the boys. The owner of the farm 
was entitled to one half of all the oil as his 
share for the use of the land. This is called 
the owner's "royalty." This term, their fa- 
ther told them, came from the tax put upon 
all lands, mines, &c , in countries ruled by 




Filling the Boats. 

royal governors; they claim to own all the 
land, and charge for the use of it. This 
charge or tax was called the right of royalty, 
or the king's share. In this country each 
land-owner is king of his own estate, and he 
has the right of royalty in the land. 

The owner of this farm decided to send his 
share, or royalty, of the oil to market at the 
same time; so that three boats were loaded 
from uncle Charley's tanks. The loading was 
done by screwing iron pipe to the faucets in the 
tanks, and extending the pipe down to the 
boats ; when the faucets were opened the boats 
were very quickly loaded. 

Now the boys were impatient to see the 
teams hitched on and the boats start. They 
wei-e, as usual, too fast. The boatman told 
them thei'e was not enough water in the creek 
to float the loaded boats down. 

" Sure enough the boats ai'e aground now! 
How are we going to get off.' " inquired Ar- 
thur, anxiously. 

" Wait for a pond freshet," replied the boat- 
man. 

" A fo7id freshet ? What is that .? When is 
it coming.'' Where is it coming from.-*" 

These questions were all asked at once, by 
both of the boys together, without giving the 
boatman time to answer one of them. 

In answer they learned that in low water an 
artificial rise of the stream was secured by hir- 
ing the mill-owners above to let the water out 
of their dams. The upper dams on Oil Creek, 
and the smaller streams which empty into 
it, were first let oft", and all the water in them 
collected in the last and largest dam. Then, 
at a given hour, the " slash-boards " of the big 
dam are cut, and the accumulated flood let out 
all at once. On this flood all the boats loaded 



36 



PETROLIA, 







Starting with the " Freshet." 



with oil along the creek floated down to Oil 
Citj. At the same time the owners of the 
mills would float their lumber down to market. 
Sometimes a thousand craft went down on a 
single "pond fresh." 

"When is the next pond fresh coming.?" 
the bojs asked, after listening eagerly to this 
account. 

" In a day or two. We usually have two a 
week," was the reply. 

It was so. That very day, the man who 
superintended the pond freshets came along 
the creek to give notice that the lower dam 
would be cut at ten o'clock the next forenoon. 
He also collected some money from the boat- 
owners to help pay the cost of buying the 
water of the inill-owners. 

"Now," said uncle Charlej', "do you boys 
want to ride down to Oil City on horses, and 
see the fleet of boats and rafts come in? Or 
do you prefer to ride down on the boats with 
the freshet.? There is a good deal of excite- 
ment and considerable danger in making the 
voyage." 

This last consideration decided the boys im- 
media'tely in favor of going by boat ; the " dan- 
ger" was the very thing they had the greatest 
curiosity to see. It was finally arranged that 
Arthur arid his father should go down by the 
boat, and Fred and his uncle go down by 
land. Uncle Charley told his brother how to 
manage with Arthur im case of a smash-up. 



There were always plenty of chances to jump 
on the other boats, which filled the creek at 
such times. 

Early next day the boats were made ready 
for the flood. The covers to the oil-bunks 
were fastened down. The huge steering oars, 
forty feet long, were hung on their pins at 
each end of the boats; they projected out be- 
fore and behind, like long wings. Besides the 
oars, there were long setting-poles to push the 
boat along with in deep, still water, and hand- 
spikes to pry off the boat when it sticks fast, 
to do which the men had to jump into the 
stream to work. 

All was ready before ten. Two men stood 
at each oar; the pilot stood near the stern, 
and Arthur and his father sat on two oil- 
barrels, near the centre of the boat — all wait- 
ing the coming flood. Work had been sus- 
pended at all wells on the creek, and the oil 
operators and the people from the country 
around came down to witness the exciting 
scenes. Pond-fresh-days were general holi- 
days ; in fact, almost the only play-days the 
tfesy oil men had. The bank was lined with 
spectators all along the creek. 

Ten o'clock had passed by but a few mo- 
ments when a low, distant murmur was heard, 
like the subdued roar of a far-off railway train. 

"She's coming!" said the pilot. "Some 
of 3'ou men on the shore there stand by to 
cast off our cables." 



PETROLIA. 



37 




The Collision. 



They untied the cables from the trees, and a 
man stood holding an end of each, still keep- 
ing it wound around the tree. 

The roar of the coming flood increased rap- 
idly, and soon shouts were heard from the 
people up the creek. Then Arthur saw what 
looked like a wall of water as high as a man's 
head, filling the channel from bank to bank, 
roaring like a cataract, white Avith foam, and 
rushing rapidly. Its crest was covered with 
boards, sticks, slabs, oyster-kegs, old barrels, 
and all the litter of saw-mills, oil-diggings, 
and oil-towns up the creek, including the car- 
casses of horses killed by hard usage. Back 
of these they could see the glitter of the sweep- 
ing oars of the boats and rafts, already riding 
the wave; and, above the roar of rushing 
waters, they could hear the shouts of the 
pilots, and the yells of the excited spectators. 

Arthur never will forget the scene at the 
moment when the wave seemed to be coming 
down on their heads. His heart first stood 
still, then filled his throat with a choking sen- 
sation. But, in fact, the wave was not nearly 
as large as it looked, and the real danger 
was not of its overwhelining them. When it 
reached the boats it lifted them like chips. 
As the stern climbed the wave first, the bow 
dipped low, sinking the forward oarsmen to 
their knees in water. When the flood was 
fairly under them, the pilot cried, " Cast off!" 
The cables were let go, and the oarsmen 



pulled the boat out from the banks. In work- 
ing the oars they walked entirely across the 
boat, pushing the stem of the oar before them, 
raised so that the blade would dip; then they 
would run back quickly, carrying the stem 
near the deck, and the blade out of water. 

They were now shooting rapidly down with 
the fleet. Other boats pulled out and joined 
them every minute. Constant care was ne- 
cessary to keep the boats from " fouling " with 
each other. Where there was a bend in the 
channel the oarsmen had to "pull lively" to 
keep off the outside bank of the curve. The 
mountains along shore echoed with the orders 
of the pilots and the shouts of spectators. 

When about a mile below the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well, a row of large boats, of which 
Arthur's was one, had moved up abreast, fill- 
ing the channel completely full. This was 
well enough for them, but it proved bad for 
another row of boats tied along the bank be- 
low, waiting to start. The moving boat next 
the shore was bearing directly down on these 
stationary boats. Its pilot, seeing the daft- 
ger, shouted, '■'■ Left I Left , all I Giveaway, 
lively ! " and himself ran to help the forward 
oarsmen. It was no use. They could not move 
the whole rank of boats that filled the channel 
and crowded against this one. It struck the 
first of the stationary boats with a crash, 
snapping both its cables like threads, and set- 
ting it loose. The men on t^'^ loosened boat 



38 



PETROLIA. 




Shooting the Bridge. 

bent to their oars to carry it out far enough 
to clear the boat moored next below; but in 
vain. It in turn struck that, and broke it 
loose, and the two bore down on those be- 
low. 

The men on the rest of the shore boats now 
saw that they must go whether they were 
ready or not; so they all cut their cables, and 
pulled out. 

Meanwhile, the boat that first struck the 
row, its headway being stopped a little, was 
caught in the rear by the current, and whirled 
completely around, end for end. The men on 
it, when they saw they must swing, pulled 
with all their power to whirl the boat faster 
than the current, and thus keep from being 
swamped by the current taking them sidewise 
and pouring over the low gunwales of their 
boat. They succeeded. 

Strange as it may seem, none of the boats 
were wrecked by this collision. But some of 
the boats farthest down, of those which were 
compelled to cut loose, were too far in advance 
of the. full head of the freshet to be safe. One 
of these ran along a few rods, and then stuck 
fast on a bar at the prow; the current turned 
it sidewise; other boats came crashing down 
against it; the water instantly poured over its 
side and sank it to the bottom, and it was de- 
molished and swept away. The men in it 
sprang into other boats. 

The three boats from the Flag-and-Windmill 
Well were not in this jam. As they passed, 
Arthur could see a confused mass of timber, 
the ruins of three or four boats destroj'ed, bar- 
rels, loose oil, &c., scattered on the stream. 

The greatest danger for all was yet to come. 
The^v were now rapidly approaching the Oil 
City Bridge, and Arthur knew, by the anxious 



faces of the men, that the perilous place was 
there. Hebegan almosttowish he was ashore. 
When the bridge came in sight it looked 
black all over with people; the shores also 
were crowded. The pilot anxiously scanned 
the motions of the drift-wood ahead of him, 
to see on which side of the " centre bent," or 
middle timbers of the bridge, the current ran 
strongest; so he could decide which of two 
channels to take. Presently he said, 'Til 
take the right-hand shoot." 

"Why don't you pull for it, then.?" cried 
Arthur, in great alarm, as he saw the boat 
headed directly for the timbers of the bridge. 

"If we pull too quick she'll swing too far. 
We want to strike the right-hand current with 
the boat on the swing, and let the current 
help us ! " exclaimed the pilot. 

At that moment Arthur spied Fred and 
uncle Charley on the bridge waving their 
hats to him. Arthur responded vigorously. 

When they were almost to the bridge, and 
Arthur had given up all hope of the boat 
clearing the timbers'^ the pilot suddenly yelled, 
^'' Right I '" The men gave three quick, pow- 
erful strokes to the oars ; the boat veered slow- 
ly to the right, not enough to clear. She will 
strike! No; the current takes her, and swings 
her easily over. She just clears the timbers, 
and shoots, with a rush and a splash, past the 
big brace and under the bridge, safe and 
clear ! 

The crowd cheered loudly, again and again, 
over this skilful handling of the boat, in 
which Fred and Arthur joined with all their 
might. 

Arthur looked back, and saw how the boat 
would have fared if the pilot had steered as 
he wanted him to. The next boat behind 
them began to pull over too soon. As its 
head took the right-hand current, the counter 
current on the other side struck its stern. It 
began to swing around sidewise, and in one 
minute it was hurled across the shelving brace 
of the bridge with a crash ! It bent and hung 
there, high up on the brace, like a pair of 
saddle-bags, emptying the cargo out into the 
stream. The crew ran to the middle and 
clambered up the timbers, and were pulled on 
the bridge by the people above. 

The next boat struck this, and the next, and 
the next. Some pulled over far enough to es- 
cape under the bridge ; more went into the 
jam. Boats and rafts were piled on each 
other in the wildest confusion. Crash ! smash ! 
they came; endwise, sidewise, every way. 
Water roared and tore over the wrecks. The 
black, odorous oil was sent flying in every di- 



PETROLIA. 



39 




Snubbing the Boat. 

rection through the air, and over the people. 
Thousands and thousands of dollars were 
sunk and lost in a few moments. An under 
current speedily formed beneath the wreck, 
and many of the boats were sucked under, 
and went completely out of sight. 

The men on them made good their escape 
by the first opportunity. One boat ran partly 
over a sunken one — stuck, tilted for a min- 
ute ; then her bow was sucked down so quick- 
ly that her stern was jerked in the air, and the 
men, who had run back, were sent flying, just 
as the boys shoot up stones by striking one 
end of a tilted stick on which they are placed. 
The men landed in the water a few feet dis- 
tant with a great splash, and swam ashore, 
sputtering and swearing, amidst the shouts 
and laughter of the crowd. 

The channel was now completely blocked 
by the wrecks of a dozen boats ; and the creek 
above, from bank to bank, w"as jammed full of 
rafts and boats. No inore boats got through 
that day, as the freshet had begun to subside. 
Most of those in the creek, above the bridge, 
saved their cargoes, and got off with the next 
freshet. 

The stream, for miles below, was covered 
with barrels of oil, lumber, oars, poles, frag- 
ments of boats, — all floating in the thick 
flood of oil which covered the stream.* 

The boat Arthur was on alone of the three 
that started together got through. After they 
passed the bridge the boat was crowded up 
against the shore to slacken its velocity some- 
what. One of the boatmen then jumped 
ashore with a cable, and made a "running- 
hitch" around a stump — that is, he wound it 

* By one pond-freshet jam over thirty thousand barrels of 
.oil were estimated to have been lost. 



around so that it would slip slowly, holding 
the end and gradually checking the motion of 
the boat. This is called " snubbing " a boat, 

"I can do that, I guess," said Arthur. 

"Guess not, sonny," said an old raftsman. 
"You'd probably break the cable or your own 
leg — perhaps both, and your jolly neck into 
the bargain." 

Arthur thought the boatman very disrespect- 
ful. '■ Sonny ! " said Arthur to himself, indig- 
nantly ; " and I in my teens ! " 

Uncle Charley and Fred were waiting on 
the bank for them. He told them he had al- 
ready sold the oil in the boat to one of the 
numerous oil brokers that assembled at Oil 
City on pond-freshet days. The other boat 
was a total loss. It happened that the wrecked 
cargo was the one taken " at owner's risk," at 
fifty cents a barrel ; and the one that came 
through was the one whose delivery was in- 
sured by the boat-owner at seventy-five cents. 
So they had to pay freight both on the lost oil 
and on the other. 

After paying all charges, the money left 
gave the boys thirty dollars each for their 
shares. They felt exceedingly happy and rich. 
They had never owned so much money before, 
" all for their own." Uncle Charley, however, 
was not so well satisfied, and declared he would 
never ship any more oil by boats. 

The owner of the farm, who had lost all of 
his oil, said the same, and declared that he 
would immediately put up tankage enough to 
hold all the oil produced on his farm until it 
could be shipped by rail. 




40 



PETROLIA. 




KII»/i£SSL£ }/-j40tfHSON.H >'. 



PART III, 



UPS AN"D DO^WNS OF THE OIL 
BUSIISrESS. 



'T^HE owner of the farm on which was the 
-■- Flag-and-Windmill Well proceeded im- 
mediately to carry out the determination he 
made when his boat and the one belonging to 
Arthur, Fred, and uncle Charley were lost in 
the " pond freshet jam," viz., to build tanks 
to receive all the oil produced by all the wells 
on his farm, until it could be sold, barrelled, 
and shipped away profitably and safely. 

He contracted with a firm in Titusville to 
build for him two iron tanks of four thousand 
barrels capacity each. The iron plates, of 
which these tanks were built, were rolled out, 
cut the right size and shape to form the bot- 
tom and sides when put together; the pieces 
for the sides were bent to the proper curve, 
and all were punched with rivet-holes all 
around the edges. All this was done at the 
shops, and so accurately calculated that when 
the pieces were taken to the farm, and each 
one fitted to its proper place, they made ex- 
actly the right sized and shaped bottom ; the 
curved pieces met in a complete circle of the 



right size, and all the rivet-holes came oppo- 
site exactly, so that the bolts could be put in 
and the plates riveted together. Every piece 
fitted as it should to make an iron tub forty- 
one feet in diameter and seventeen feet deep. 

The boys were amazed to see the confused 
heap of iron plates go together and gradually' 
build the great tanks. They speedily " scraped 
an acquaintance" with the greasy machinists, 
who looked so rough and understood their 
business so well. They found them to be very 
intelligent and civil, as well as very clever 
men, rough as they looked. 

When the big tanks were done, all the pro- 
ducing wells on the farm were allowed to lay 
pipes to them and run their oil in to be 
stored. For this storage the proprietor of the 
tanks charged them a small fee per barrel. 
In time he got enough money back for tank- 
age of other men's oil to repay him the cost 
of the tanks, which was six thousand five hun- 
dred dollars for both tanks. By measuring 
the depth of the oil before and after each 
man ran a small tank of oil in, he could com- 
pute how much had been delivered to be 
stored, and was entitled to be taken out again 
by each person. 

Uncle Charley and the boys bought barrels 
and barrelled their oil as fast as they could 



PETROLIA. 



41 



It was only v.hen the Flag-and- Windmill Well 
got the start of them, and filled their tanks 
before they could haul it away, that they ran 
it into the big tanks. 

Although the well produced prodigious 
quantities of oil, they did not get rich very 
fast. It cost so much to buy barrels, put up 
the oil, and hire it teamed across the irioun- 
tain to the railroad, that but little was left for 
their share of the sales. The teamsters de- 
manded all they could exact for hauling the 
oil. They calculated just how much the oil 
would sell for, what it cost to barrel it, and 
they would take nearly all the remainder, 
leaving a very little profit for the owners of 
the oil — for which generosity uncle Charley 
alwaj's thanked them with the most profound 
gratitude. These expenses " ate up " nearly 
all the receipts. 

Then, the striking of several large wells had 
increased the supply of oil so largely that the 
market was overstocked, and the price of oil 
went down to a very low point. Uncle Char- 
ley said if the market kept on downward, he'd 
soon have to pay some one to take the oil as 
a gift. 

In addition to small profits, their supply 
began to decrease. The production of the 
Flag- and- Windmill Well lessened a little ev- 
ery day from the first. Its yield had been 
largely overrated on the start. It made such 
a display of power and production, that 
everybody who saw it gauged its yield too 
high. It is probable, after the water was all 
drawn off, it never had yielded more than 
eight hundred and fifty barrels per day, actual 
measurement. At the end of two months this 
had decreased to between five and six hun- 
dred barrels per day. The spirts from "Na- 
ture's wounded artery " grew less violent and 
less frequent, as though she were slowly sink- 
ing and expiring from loss of much blood. 
There were now intervals of fifteen or twenty 
minutes between the spasms of flow, during 
which the well was entirely quiet. 

This falling off alarmed the boys. They 
asked their uncle if he supposed the well was 
going to cease flowing altogether. 

Uncle Charley said he expected it to, in the 
course of time ; all flowing wells do. 

" And what will we do then?" asked both 
of the young " operators " at once. 

" Well," was the reply, " we can pump the 
well, and make it continue to pay as long as 
there is any oil left in the veins tapped by it. 
When that don't pay, we can abandon the Flag- 
and-Windmill Well, and sink other wells on 
this lease. Or, we can sell out this lease, and 



all we have here, and take the money and quit 
the business with the little pile we have made ; 
or go somewhere else, make another lease, 
and try our luck again. Now, which would 
you like to do.?" 

" How much can we sell out for.-*" asked the 
careful little Yankees. 

'•Not as much as we could have got two 
months ago. When we first struck oil, I was 
offered for our interest in the well — how much 
do you guess, now?" 

The boys had got some new ideas as to the 
extent of the money operations of the oil coun- 
try, and thought they could guess pretty near. 

"Fifty hundred dollars," said Fred. 

" Pooh ! " exclaimed Arthur, contemptuous- 
ly. "I guess fifty thousand dollars," going, 
as he thought, to an extreme price. 

Uncle Charley laughed. " I was offered one 
million dollars., and refused." 

" Why didn't you sell ? " asked Arthur, vain- 
ly trying to get some idea of how much a mil- 
lion dollars is. 

" Well, I thought I could make more to hold 
on. And I don't think I'd sell for that now." 

" Hem ! I would, if I were you," said Fred. 

" Would you ? " rejoined his uncle. " Well, 
you and Arthur may sell your interest, if you 
wish to. You'll find plenty of speculators ready 
to make you an offer." 

The two young " greasers " talked their busi- 
ness over together. Fred said, " How much 
is our interest worth ? " 

" If uncle Charley's whole interest, with 
ours, is worth a million dollars, ours, which 
is one twenty-fifth of his, must be worth forty 
thousand dollars." 

" I guess that's about a fair price for our in- 
terest," said Fred; "if any of the spectators 
offer that, let's sell, Arthur.'" 

He looked puzzled and undecided. Either 
of the boys had but little comprehension of 
the sum they were talking about so glibly, and 
with such business-like airs. 

They did not have long to wait for a chance 
to sell, for within a week, two men, rough and 
mud-bespattered, came along and asked uncle 
Charley if he would sell his interest in the 
Flag-and- Windmill Well. He said he guessed 
not, but perhaps they could make a trade with 
two young fellows who owned a small interest 
with him. 

" Where are they, and how much do they 
own?" asked the speculators. 

"There they are, and they each own one 
fiftieth of the working interest," answered 
uncle Charley, pointing to the boys. 

"What, those little shavers! Do they own 



42 



PETROLIA. 




The Boy Operators and the Speculators. 



as much property as that? " exclaimed one of 
the men. 

"Those must be the ' boy operators' I heard 
them telling about at Titusville," said the oth- 
e> man. 

The boys stood up as straight and tall as 
possible, and tried to look business-like, and 
appear as if they had been in such large trans- 
actions all their (short) lives. It did appeal 
largely to their pride to be referred to as part- 
ners of so old and successful an operator as 
uncle Charley ; to hear that they were known 
and talked of " on change," and to be called 
on to negotiate a forty thousand dollar trade. 
They could hardly realize it, and thought, 
" What would father and mother, and the boys 
in our school, say, if they knew what a big 
business we are doing?" 

One of the men gave the other a sly wink, 
end said to the boys, — 

"Give you thirty thousand — three days' 
buj'ers' option — two thousand refusal. What 
d'ye say?" 

This was "all Greek" to Fred. But Ar- 
thur's inquiring turn of mind had put him in 
possession of the meaning of " refusal," so that 
he understood the men offered two thousand 
for the privilege of taking the interest any time 
within three days. So he said, — 

" You can have it for forty thousand." 

"It's a bargain." And one of the men 
• counted out two thousand and handed it to 



Arthur. Uncle Charley told them he would 
make the transaction good, so far as the boys 
could not. 

As the men rode away, Arthur heard one of 
them say to the other, — 

" You didn't catch that boy — did you ? He's 
a sharp 'un." 

" Uncle Charley," said Fred, " do you sup- 
pose they will come back and take the well? 
They don't look as if they had so much 
money." 

"They have not," replied uncle Charley; 
"I shouldn't wonder if this two thousand was 
their pile." 

"Then how are they going to buj' our well?" 
asked the astonished boys. 

"They don't want to duj the well; they 
want to sell it." 

" Why, no ! " exclaimed Fred ; " we own the 
well, and we want to sell it. Haven't they 
agreed to duy it, I'd like to know?" 

"You can't sell it, if you do want to — at 
least, you have no right to sell at any price, 
during the next three days. No one can sell 
your interest for the next three days but those 
men. If some one should now come and offer 
you sixty thousand dollars or eighty thousand 
dollars, you couldn't sell. Those fellows will 
find a buyer at an advance. Although they 
don't ozvfi it, and don't intend to, they may 
sell it for fifty or sixty thousand dollars ; then 
they will pay you thirty-eight thousand more, 



PETROLIA. 



43 



and pocket the rest for their profits. That's 
the way they make their money." 

"What!" .exclaimed Fred, warmly; "if 
some one offers ns more than forty thousand 
dollars, can't we sell and make the profit, in- 
stead of those spectators ? " 

" No, sir ! You've sold the chance to do that, 
and got your two thousand dollars for it." 

" That ain't fair ! " cried Fred ; " I won't do 
that. We ought to sell for more, if we can." 

"It isn't at all likely you can, so don't get 
excited about it. Those men know where to 
find customers at big figures; you don't. 
You are doing well enough. If they don't 
sell, you will have the two thousand dollars 
clear. If they do, you will have forty thou- 
sand dollars, and I should think that was a 
comfortable little pocket-full for a couple of 
boys." 

"I declare!" added he, to himself, laugh- 
ing, "there's just about the same nature in 
boys, as in men. Those boys never owned a 
hundred dollars of their own, and now they 
want to bolt a bargain that gives them two 
thousand dollars sure, and forty thousand 
dollars probably, for the possible chance of 
a few thousand dollars more. Human na- 
ture can't be satisfied. The little scamps act 
just as I would, for all the world. They learn 
fast." 

Then he said aloud, " Fred, you seem to be 
somewhat dissatisfied with the offer \'ou have 
made. Have you anj' idea how much money 
forty thousand dollars is, do you suppose? 
Do you know it would buy four or five farms 
like 3'our father's ; make you the richest men 
in your village; and, at simple interest, give 
you two boys about eig'ht dollars to spend every 
day of your lives. It would put you where 
you never need work a day, if you don't want 
to. Guess you don't know when you have a 
good thing. I'm afraid this oil business is 
demoralizing you. Learn to be contented 
with enough." 

He was going on with a highly instructive 
"preachment," when Fred, with a boy's di- 
rectness and want of reverence, interrupted 
him with, — 

"Why, uncle, when you had a chance to 
sell for a million dollars, you didn't, but stuck 
on to make more! A million dollars is more 
than forty thousand." 

This cut short uncle Chai-ley's lecture on 
contentment. He had to turn his face away 
to hide a look of confusion and mirth. The 
vastness of these transactions confused the 
boys, while the immense sums of money that 
changed hands, the large fortunes made and 



lost dally around thein, upset all their previ- 
ous ideas of the value of money. They now 
thought and spoke of 3 thousand dollars as 
they once would have spoken and thought of 
a dime. By a single stroke of luck, there 
seemed to lie at the feet of these two boys a 
forljune many times larger than their parents 
had been able to accumulate by a lifetime of 
patient toil, good management, and close econ- 
omy. All the wonders of Aladdin's transfor- 
mations, of which they had often read, were 
utterly cast into the shade by this sudden, 
mysterious, powerful upspouting of greasy 
wealth. Yet they had got a glimpse — only 
a peep — into the vast wealth unlocked from 
the caverns of earth, and spread abroad over 
its surface. 

The boys indulged in many dreams and 
plans as to what they would do with their for- 
tune — when it came. It was only a dream, 
and a very short one. Like many older oper- 
ators, these boys were counting their chickens 
before the eggs were hatched. For, the second 
day after the refusal was given, the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well was flooded and ruined. This 
calamity came in this waj' : — 

As soon as the big well was struck, the own- 
ers of leases adjoining commenced to bore 
wells as close as they could get, in hopes of 
striking the same great reservoir of oil from 
which the Flag-and- Windmill Well was sup- 
plied. In this attempt one of the wells suc- 
ceeded. But the result was not what was an- 
ticipated. As soon as the new well penetrated 
the cavity, instead of commencing to spout, as 
the Flag-and-Windmill had done, it allowed a 
great column of water to rush down, fill the 
crevice, and stop the flow of oil and gas into 
the Flag-and-Windmill Well. The pressure 
of gas and oil, which had kept the latter flow- 
ing being thus removed, it also filled with 
water. In a few minutes both wells were full 
of water to an equal height, and there they 
rested. The Flag-and-Windmill Well was 
good for nothing in that condition for either 
production or sale : of course the speculators 
never came back with the balance of the forty 
thousand dollars. 

Thus, in an hour, uncle Charley and the 
boys saw a million of dollars vanish ; and the 
forty thousand they almost had their hands 
on, slipped through their fingers. To them 
it was a great disappointment. But their 
uncle took it very coolly; he actually laughed, 
and said, — 

"Never mind, boys! This is greaser's luck. 
We must take the lean with the fat." 

" But," said Arthur, " what are we going to 



44 



PETROLIA. 







Fred " kept Tally." Page 43. 



do now? Can't the water be got out, and make 
it spout oil again?" 

"It would be of no use to pump the water 
from 07ie well alone. The other well would 
flood it, if not pumped also. Both wells have 
got to be cased water-tight, and pumped, and 
kept clear. Then both wells would probably 
yield." 

This course uncle Charley immediately pro- 
posed to the owners of the new well. They 
were greedy, exacting men, and thought they 
had the big well in their power. They said 
thej-- would do what uncle Charley proposed, 
if he would give them half the oil produced 
for him thereafter by the Flag-and-Windmill 
Well ; and they offered to give him half the 
yield of their well, if it produced anything. 
In other words, they would make an equal 
partnership in the profits of the two wells. 
They did not know that their well would pro- 
duce anything: they did know that the Flag- 
and-Windmill Well would yield enormously. 

This demand uncle Charley would not ac- 
cede to. He tried to buy the new well, and 
get it out of the way. They said they would 
sell and get out of the way for two hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars ! Their well was not 
worth it — perhaps not worth anything. They 
priced it according to its value, not ior ffood, 
but for harm. They thought they could com- 
pel the Flag-and-Windmill Well to buy them 
off at that price. 



Uncle Charley said he'd " see them hanged 
before he'd pay it." And they never got the 
two hundred and fifty thousand dollars they felt 
so sure of. 

So there the wells stood, full of water, and 
useless to the owners of either. 

'^ What are we going to do about it?" asked 
the boys. 

"Well," replied their uncle, "we can sell 
out our well as it stands, with the lease, en- 
gine, rig, tanks, &c., and quit the business; 
or, we can hold the well just as it is, and 
lie still until those fellows come to their 
senses ; they have sunk all the money they 
have got in their well ; we haven't. Or, we 
needn't wait at all. We have got six thousand 
five hundred barrels of oil in tanks and barrels. 
We can sell this for enough to sink more wells 
on our lease, and I think we would stand a 
good chance to make another strike. Now, 
which do you say do — sell out and quit, wait 
for those figs to come down, or sink more 
wells ? " 

Arthur reflected a moment, and then asked, 
"If it would make the Flag-and-Windmill 
Well again worth a big sum, why isn't it a 
good thing to buy off the new well ? " 

"For several reasons it is not good policy," 
answered the old operator. " First, if we 
should pay two hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars to buy off this well, in less than a 
month we should have forty more wells to buy 



PETROLIA. 



45 




Uncle Charley's Good By. 

off; they would crowd around the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well, like flies around a honej-pot, 
trying to tap it and our pockets. We don't 
want to ofter an inducement to men to flood 
our well ; they will think they can strike our 
money, if they don't strike oil; we might as 
well give up at once, as to offer both our well 
and ourselves to be pumped dry, in that way. 
In the second place, it is a question of doubt 
as to what the Flag-and-Windmill Well will 
do if restored : she may pay, and may not; I 
don't want to pay two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars on an uncertainty." 

" Can't we stop them spoiling our business, 
so.'"' asked Arthur, indignantly, all his sense 
of justice and right aroused by the conduct of 
their selfish and obstinate neighbors. 

"I don't know; I think I'll try and see if 
the law will give us justice. There is a clause 
in my lease and in theirs that forbids their 
leaving thdir Avell untested, to flood another 
v/ell." 

This was a foolish determination on the 
part of uncle Charley, for he would lose more 
money by the delays and expenses of the law 
than it would have cost him to buy up the new 
well, even at the exorbitant price asked. 

As the boys' vacation was now nearly end- 



ed, and all operations were suspended, no one 
knew for how long, at the Flag-and-Windmill 
Well, they concluded they would close out their 
oil business until their next visit to Petrolia. 

Accordingly they and their uncle proceeded 
to market the oil they had on hand. Large 
numbers of barrels were bought and filled. It 
was a busy, bustling scene. One large gang 
of men, imder uncle Chai-ley's direction, was 
engaged in drawing the oil from the tanks 
into the barrels, while another gang under 
Arthur rolled them away, and helped load 
them on the wagons. Fred had a book, and 
" kept tally," putting down the name of the 
teamster, and the number of barrels he re- 
ceived to haul at each load. 

The caravan of teams was a sight. They 
covered the ground thickly around the tanks, 
as many as could load at once. They were 
constantly going and coming in long trains. 
They commenced to work at dayUght in the 
inorning, and worked until after dark. Many 
horses were killed by overwork. The roads 
were very muddy and deep. Constant pas- 
sage of heavily-loaded wagons cut the soft soil 
up into deep holes and ruts. 

At this time came another turn in the 
"greaser's luck," that served to put a little 
light into the dark picture of the drowning 
out of the Flag-and-Windmill Well. Oil just 
" in the nick of time " took a sudden upward 
turn in price ; it advanced to a very profitable 
figure. It was to take advantage of this that 
uncle Charley crowded the work of shipment 
as hard as possible. 

They succeeded in getting it all out to the 
railroad, and sold just at the highest point 
reached. By this lucky turn they made more 
off" that one lot than they had oft' all they had 
sold before. The profits amounted to nearly 
thirty thousand dollars, of which the boys 
were entitled to two fiftieths, or twelve hun- 
dred dollars. 

They had the two thousand dollars which 
the two speculators had paid for the three 
days' refusal of their interest, and about one 
thousand dollars cleared oft" previous sales of 
oil. They figured it all up, and found they 
could boast of over four thousand dollars in 
their own right. 

"That's a pretty good vacation's work, if 
we didn''t get the forty thousand dollars we 
thought we were going to," said Fred. 

"Fred," said Arthur, "should we carryall 
this home with us.-"' 

" Yes; why not.''" 

" Because, if uncle Charley is at any ex- 
pense to get the Flag-and-Windmill Well to 



46 



PETROLIA. 



operating again we ought to help pay the ex- 
pense ; besides, if we don't, we can't expect 
any interest in it when it produces again. I 
want to stand by uncle Charley and the old 
Flag-and-Windmill Well." 

"All right," said Fred; "so do I. Let's 
leave half our money here with him to put 
things through with, until we can come 
again." 

So they did. A few days after they bade 
good by to the bustling, dirty, exciting scene. 

" Three cheers for the Flag-and-Windmill 
Well!" cried Fred. 
• They gave them with a boyish will. 

" Three more and a tiger for uncle Char- 
ley ! " said Arthur. 

They gave these with redoubled energy. 

Uncle Charley climbed up to the top of the 
now motionless working-beam, and waved his 
hat to them as long as he could see them on 
their winding way down the mountain side. 

They reached home in Massachusetts in 
safety — rugged, brown, happy, and rich. 
They had drafts on the bank for two thou- 
sand dollars. 

The boys were the admiration and envy of 
their school, and were extensively lionized by 
the whole country round as " the two little 
shavers who made a pile in the oil diggings." 
These attentions soon reconciled the boys to 
the profits, which at one time seemed a mere 
trifle compared with the forty thousand dol- 
lars they didn't get — so small as to seem 
hardly worth bringing home. They found 
that it didn't take as much to make " a rich 
man" at their countrj' home as it did among 
the " oil princes " and millionnaires of Penn- 
sylvania. 

Our boys and girls who have read the his- 
tory of the Flag-and-Windmill Well will per- 
haps remember that when Arthur and Fred 
started for Petrolia, little Lulu requested them 
to bring her a bottle of " oi-e-1 to dease her 
haa." Lulu also remembered it, though her 
brothers had long since forgotten it, in the 
exciting, wild life they had lived. In the 
midst of the general joy over the safe return 
of the young "operators," and of the exulta- 
tion over their good fortune. Lulu was left to 
her own devices. She improved the occasion 
to dive into the boys' trunk, and fished up 
therefrom a bottle of crude petroleum, which 
they had brought home to exhibit as a curi- 
osity. When she was at last missed, by rea- 
son of her stillness, she was found squared up 
before the mirror on a chair, industriously 
" deasing her haa." She had soaked her 
golden-j'ellow, flossy locks so thoroughly 




Lulu strikes Oil. 

with the black, sticky, stinking stuflf, that the 
traces of it could not be got out of her 
hair, nor the scent of it out of the house, in 
weeks. 

"Hurrah!" cried Fred; "another one of 
the family has struck oil ! " 

Arthur asked his mother, mischievously, 
" what she would take for her working inter- 
est in Lulu's strike?" 

" Mother can't see where the laugh comes 
in ! " said Fred. 

All the rest of the family did^ judging by 
the noise they made about that time. 

All the subsequent history of the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well, and the improved condition 
of things Arthur and Fred found, on their 
next visit to Petrolia, will be hereafter de- 
scribed ; also what they did with all the mon- 
ey they made in the oil business. 




PETROLIA. 



47 



PART IV 



PUMPUsTG OIL. — " TORPEDOING " THE 
■WELL. 



WHEN Fred and Arthur again returned to 
the oil regions great changes had taken 
place in the appearance of the country, in the 
oil business, and in the location of the oil 
territory. 

Railroads had been built to all important 
points in the oil country, affording conven- 
ient and rapid outlets to market. The man- 
ner of handling and shipping oil had changed ; 
the army of teams and fleets of oil boats on 
" pond freshets " had passed away. The man- 
ner of sinking wells, of buying, selling, and 
leasing territory, marketing oil, and, in fact, 
the whole character of the business, had im- 
proved wonderfully. Besides, the region of 
oil-producing wells had shifted from place to 
place. Oil had been struck in new places not 
before considered at all likely to be oil terri- 
tory, and most of the localities that had once 
been the most valuable had been exhausted 
and ceased to produce. Where once the boys 
had seen thousands of men busy and excited 
with the tremendous supplj' of oil, all was now 
still and stagnant; no one was to be seen — 
not even one of the long-nosed, gaunt hogs, 
that seemed to be everywhere in that country. 
They went to a spot where once had stood a 
city, with banks, theatres, grand hotels, large 
stores, and daily papers. All that could be 
seen was a few shanties and a wilderness of 
derricks — the mournful monuments of lost 
hopes and buried fortunes. 

Fred inquired of a lone resident of the spot 
what had become of all the buildings.'' 

" They were torn down, and the lumber sold. 
Part of them were burned in big oil fires. The 
four story hotel that stood here (pointing to 
the spot) was moved away to the next place 
where there was a big oil excitement." 

The boys also saw the bridges and embank- 
ments of what had once been a railroad, over 
which they had formerly ridden. Business 
had passed out of its reach, and it had been 
taken up. As the other side of this dark pic- 
ture they saw many new towns where they 
had formerly seen but a wilderness. And 
there seemed to be a more settled and stable 
appearance to the places and the people. They 
learned that the borers found no more big 
flowing wells now, but paying wells were more 
numerous. There were more chances for an 
operator to make something to pay him ; and 
so many more paying wells were struck that 



more oil was produced than when the big levi- 
athan spouters were going. So great were 
the changes that a short time had made ! It 
gave the boys new ideas as to the persever- 
ance, energy, ingenuity, and pluck of the won- 
derful men of that wonderful country. 

Luckily uncle Charley's lease had not en- 
tirely' become "plaj-ed out" territory, as they 
call it when it ceases to yield. The Flag-and- 
Windmill well, which they left full of water, 
was, after months of delay and contest, cleaned 
out and got to producing again. The arrange- 
ment finally made with the rival well was the 
veiy one uncle Charley had at first proposed 
to his selfish neighbors. The owners of each 
well agreed to case and pump his own well, 
and keep it free of water and get what he 
could out of it. The two wells were in process 
of tubing when the boj'S returned to the spot, 
so they were on hand to see the whole opera- 
tion of bringing the old Flag-and-Windmill 
Well to life again. 

The first step was to case the well. This 
was done to make the well water-tight. The 
casing is iron pipe four and a half to six inches 
in diameter; it is screwed together in joints 
by means of a thimble or collar, into which 
each end of a length fits. It is put into the 
well to make a water-tight barrel in which 
they could put the pump-tubing and work the 
pump. As the casing is to shut off the springs 
of water that flow into the well, it has to be 
put down as far as there were any water- veins. 

Arthur now saw the benefit of the log-book 
he had kept when the well was drilling. The 
log told where the water-veins were found. 
He consulted the book, and informed the 
workmen that they would have to go down to 
the first sand-rock to get below all 
the water-veins ; which would re- 
quire thi-ee hundred and thirty feet 
of casing to be put in the well. 

The manner of putting down the 
casing interested the boys. One 
length of pipe was let down into the 
well; it was kept from falling by a 
pair of clamps. These were clasped 
around the pipe just below the col- 
lar which was screwed on the upper 
end of the pipe. The clamp was 
locked tight by means of a link on 
the handles. The coupling kept the 
clamp from slipping off the pipe, and 
the clamp resting across the mouth of 
the well kept the whole from falling. 

A curious machine, called a swivel. 
was now screwed in the coupling of CldTRp 
another length of pipe. The swivel 



48 



PETROLIA. 



Swivel 



has a heavy hook in it which can turn with- 
out unscrewing the rest of the machine from 
the casing. 

"Why," said Arthur, "that's just liiiC the 
swivel on my watch-chain." 

" Yes," said Fred ; "and it's just 
like the swivel on father's big log- 
chain." 

When the swivel was tightly 
screwed on the length of casing, it 
was hooked on the bull-wheel rope, 
the engine started up, and the piece 
of pipe elevated until it hung up- 
right, end to end with the length in 
the well. A big pair of tongs were 
now put on the upper piece of pipe, and it 
was screwed down into the coupling 
as far and as tight as it could be 
forced. The clamp held the lower 
piece from turning. 

When the connection was made 
secure the clamp was loosened 
enough to let the coupling pass 
through. The bull-wheel was turn- 
ed, and the pipe let down until the 
next coupling arrived at the clamp ; 
then the clamp closed on the pipe 
again, and held it. The swivel 
was unscrewed and attached to 
another length of casing; and the 
operation repeated until a continu- 
ous casing was screwed together, 
and let down as far as the first sand- 
rock. Great care was taken all the 
time that the heavy casing should 
not slip through and go down the 
well with a crash ; to this end the clamp 
was kept just loose enough to let the pipe 
slip through while it was being lowered, but 
not loose enough to let the coupling go 
through. Thus if the engine, bull-wheel, 
drill, rope, or swivel, — any one, or all of 
them, — should give way, the casing could 
fall only till the last coupling reached the 
clamp ; then the clamp would stop the falling 
pipe at the coupling. Two men attended the 
clamp while the casing was passing down, to 
see that it kept the work secure. 

But before the first piece was put in the 
well, the workmen fastened on the lowed" end 
a seed-bag: The seed-bag is a simple con- 
trivance for sealing up the space between the 
casing and the rock water-tight, so that no 
water can pass down farther than the seed- 
bag at the first sand-rock. It is a strong 
leather sack, about four feet long. They first 
lashed it firmly around the lower end of the 
casing. Then the bag was filled with flax- 



Tongs, 



seed, and the whole wrapped around the cas- 
ing, and firmly bound there. 

Fred said it looked like a broken leg with a 
poultice and bandages on it. It made a bunch 
on the pipe nearly, but not quite, large enough 
to fill the space between the casing and the 
rock. When the casing, thus swaddled in 
leather and flax-seed, was let down to place, 
the water gradually penetrated the leather 
and soaked the seed. In a few hours it swelled 
so as to fill the space around the pipe full and 
tight. Thus all the water was shut in between 
the casing and the rock, and above the seed- 
bag; it could not get into the casing, nor run 
down to flood the well below the casing. 

The same work was, at the same time, done 
in the well on the next lease. 

The next step was to put in a pump and 
pump-pipe, called tuhmg. The pump, or 
pump-barrel, is a brass tube six feet long and 
two inches inside diameter. At the lower end 
its bore is contracted a little ; this is to wedge 
in tightly the lower valve-box. 

Two valves operate in the pump-barrel. 
The lower valve-box is sta- 
tionary, and therefore is 
called the standing - box. 
The other valve rises and 
falls in the barrel with the 
plunger. It is called the 
upper-box. 

These pump-boxes are of 
brass, have a " ball valve," 
and are surrounded with 
several rings of leather, call- 
TTpperpampboX. ed "packing," to make them 
fit tight in the barrel, and 
"suck" up the oil. A pro- 
jection at the lower end of 
the working-box is fitted 
to screw into the standing- 
box ; by letting one box 
down on the other, and turn- 
ing the upper one, the two 
become attached together, 
and so can be drawn out of 
the well when needing re- 
pairs, as the leather pack- 
ings frequently do. The "grit" in the oil 
wears them out fast. 

The pump-barrel, with the standing-box 
• fixed securely in its lower end, was now. 
screwed on a length of two-inch iron tubing; 
another length on that, and so on, just as 
described in the operation of putting in the 
casing. Tubing is very heavy and strong 
pipe; none but the best "lap-welded" pipe 
will hold the tremendous pressui-e of a column 
of oil six hundred feet high. 




Lowerpump boar. 



PETROLIA. 



49 



Arthur understood the necessities of this 
case, as he had learned in philosophy that the 
pressure of fluids depended not on the quan- 
tity, but the height of the column. He ex- 
plained to Fred that a one-inch pipe, ten feet 
long, full of water, would press 
just as heavily as a full pipe of 
the same length ten inches or ten 
feet in diameter. With all his 
talk, however, he couldn't make 
Fred believe it; in fact, he told 
Arthur that when he said ten 
inches of water, ten feet high, is 
as heavy as one inch of water ten 
feet high, he was " gasing." 

They now had three sizes of 
pipe in the well, — 

I. The drive-pipe (which you 
who read the first of these arti- 
cles, in the March number of Our 
Boys and Girls, will remember 
was first driven in the earth) six 
inches in diameter, extending 
only down to the bed rock, twenty 
two feet. 2. The casing, with the 
seed-bag on, four and one half 
inches in diameter, extending 
down to the first sand, three hun- 
dred and thirty feet. 3. The 
tubing, two inches diameter, to 
the bottom of the well. The 
drive-pipe was necessary to save 
drilling in sinking the well ; the 
casing, to shut out water; the 
tubing, to conduct the oil up 
from the pump to the surface. 

Fred thought he had made a 
discover^'. "If / was doing this 
job," said he, confidently, " I 
would not put in so many pipes. 
I'd just tie the seed-bag on the 
tubing at the right spot to shut 
the water in above, and so I'd 
save the cost of the casing. The 
tubing can just as well keep out 
the water as to put down casing 
a-purpose to do it." 

"Yes, and you'd be just about 
as smart as ive used to be years 
answered one of the men. " Put the 
seed-bag on the tubing, and the first time you 
had to move the tubing to change the position 
of the pump, or had to haul it up for repairs, 
you'd burst the seed-bag, and down goes the 
water into your well. Then you've got to put 
on a new seed-bag, and you've made yourself 
a job of a week or two to get the water out 
again, besides the damage done to the well 
4 



agol 



every time you flood it. No, young man, 
casing is a cheap investment, merely to keep 
the water out." 

The next step was to set the pump going. 
The upper valve-box is operated in the barrel 
at the bottom of the well by means oi sucker- 
rods. These are slender hickory or ash poles, 



Sucker rod joints. 

twenty feet long, on the ends of which are 
riveted irons that screw into each other, thus 
making a continuous sucker-rod to the bottom 
of the well. On the lower end the working- 
box is screwed, and the whole lowered in the 
tubing until the working-valve is in place in 
the barrel. 

Fred had been long enough in " Petrolia " 
to get his wits sharpened, and learn to use his 
eyes and ears more, and his tongue less, than 
formerly. It is a great place to teach observa- 
tion. So Fred decided, without asking any 
questions, that the sucker-rods were made of 
wood, instead of iron, to save weight in op- 
erating the pump. 

To the last sucker-rod there was screwed a 
round iron rod, which projected out of the top 
of the tubing. 

" Now for the stuffing- 
box ! " said the workmen. 
Fred again thought of tur- 
key when he heard the word 
" stuffing." The stuffing- 
box (instead of a roast tur- 
key) is an iron that screws 
on the top of the tubing; 
has a hole through its top 
large enough to let the iron 
rod through ; a space is left 
in the box, around the rod, to be filled or 
stuffed tight with cotton or rags to make the 
joint tight. In one side of the stuffing-box 
is a spout to let the oil out, as it could not 
rise above the stuffing around the I'od. 

The rod was now attached to the working- 
beam, and they were ready to pump. The 
other well was also readj-, and both com- 
menced to pump the same day. 

Everybody was now anxious to see what re- 
port the great Flag-and-Windmill Well would 
make after its long sleep. Would it spout again 
after the load of water was removed? Would 
it yield anything.? How much? These were 
questions in which thousands of dollars for 
the boys and their uncle were involved. 

The pump from neither well brought up 
anything but water for ten days. All the crev- 




Stuifiiic/Booc , 



50 



PETROLIA. 



ices and caverns from which so much oil and 
gas had risen were full of water, and had to 
be emptied. At the end of ten days oil began 
once more to come from the pump of the Flag- 
and-Windmill Well. This supply increased 
until the well had worked up to forty barrels 
a day — no more. 

The other well never produced oil in paying 
quantities. After two weeks' pumping there 
was a small " show," and at length a yield of 
five barrels a day. This began to fall off, and 
in a few days the well was abandoned. Thus 
the proprietors of it became bankrupt, and the 
engine and tools were sold by the sheriff. It 
proved fortunate that uncle Charley had not 
consented to give them half the j'ield of the 
Flag-and Windmill Well. In damaging him 
so much they had ruined themselves. 

Arthur and Fred pitied them, although they 
had been the means of the Flag-and-Wind- 
mill Well losing hundreds of thousands of 
dollars. As they sat on the bull-wheel shaft 
of their ruined well, and gloomily contem- 
plated their buried hopes and fortunes, they 
were indeed pitiable. 

"What will they do now?" asked Fred, of 
his uncle. 

" O, they will go to work by the day on 
some well, and in a year or two they will earn 
and save up enough to buy an interest in an- 
other lease, and start in again. Probably the 
next you hear of them they will be worth half 
a million apiece. This isn't the first time 
they've failed, and probably it will not be the 
last. They don't care half so much about it 
as they seem to — not as much as you do. A 
' busted greaser ' never stays ' played out ' 
long." 

The boys were also much disappointed in 
the yield of their own well since its restora- 
tion. Forty barrels a day, by the slow and 
expensive means of pumping, seemed to them 
small business when they thought of the 
former self-operating fountain of eight hun- 
dred barrels' capacity. As usual, anxious to 
know the cause of everything, they sought 
from their uncle an explanation of the falling 
off of the well. 

" What is the reason.''" Arthur asked, " that 
the well does not do more. What has become 
of all the oil and gas we once found? Why 
does water in the well injure it so?" 

For reply, his uncle took him to a tank 
through which oil and water had been run- 
ning some time. Part of the oil was thick as 
mud, and there was a gathering of sticky, wax- 
like, brownish matter in the tank. He ex- 
plained. 



"That thick stuff is paraffine. It will form 
and harden in oil exposed to the action of 
water or air. When the well is left with water 
in it this paraffine is separated, settles in the 
crevices and openings of the oil veins, and 
soon putties them up. 

"Besides that, the action of water in a well 
left idle washes down dirt and small stones, 
which form a sediment at the bottom of 
the well, and choke up the seams. Then 
there is so much salt water in all wells that 
salt crystallizes on the walls of the well, and 
helps obstruct the flow of oil. Again, in some 
wells the water has so much lime or other 
mineral in it, that a crust forms on the tubing, 
just as you have seen it on the inside of the 
tea-kettle. I presume the same crust forms on 
the sides of the well. 

"All these things help to form permanent 
obstructions in the well. Besides, in many 
cases, the same oil veins are tapped by other 
wells, and while one is lying idle the others 
may carry off all, or nearly all the oil in that 
particular basin." 

" Well, uncle," said Fred, " no other well 
has carried off all our oil, for there is some 
there yet." 

" Yes, I think there is a good lot of it there 
yet. I think paraffine is the principal obstruc- 
tion in our well." 

" Can't we get it out? "asked one of the boys. 

"O, yes; paraffine is the easiest of all the 
obstructions to remove. We will try some 
benzine on it to-morrow." 

The next day several wagon loads of ben- 
zine, in barrels, came, and the boys had a 
chance to see how it operated on paraffine. 
They took a little of the thickest they could 
get, and poured some benzine on it. It dis- 
solved the paraffine in a few moments. 

The tubing was now drawn out of the Flag- 
and-Windmill Well. This operation required 
only a few hours. One of the workmen asked 
Fred where his well would be now if there 
was no casing in it, and the seed-bag was on 
the tubing? When the tubing was out, they 
emptied twenty-four barrels of benzine into 
the well, filling it partly full. They left it 
thus a few hours for the benzine to act on the 
paraffine. 

The boys went frequently to see how the 
well got along with that dose of benzine in it. 
To their surprise it gradually sunk in the well, 
until they could not touch benzine with ten 
sucker-rods screwed together. Fred ran ex- 
citedly to the shanty, and called out, — 

" O, uncle, the well has sprung a leak some- 
where, and the benzine is all running out ! " 



%4 



> I I Mil. 



o 

1— I 







PETROLIA. 



53 



How the men laughed ! Uncle Charley ex- 
plained that the benzine was cutting the par- 
affine in the oil veins, and by a tremendous 
pressure of six hundred feet head, was forcing 
its way into all the crevices. They put in eight 
barrels more of benzine, and left it to cut and 
press a whole day. At the end of that time 
the pump was put down again. 

At first only benzine came. After the bulk 
of that was out, oil began to come in increased 
quantities. The benzine had worked so well 
that the yield ran up from forty to seventy 
barrels a day. They continued to get occa- 
sionally small quantities of benzine with it, 
showing how that fluid had forced its way 
back into the crevices. Chunks of paraffine 
also came up, like clotted oil; some of it was 
lighter colored, and quite firm. 

This increased yield did not last long. The 
flow began in a few days to fall off again. So 
this proved to be only a temporary remedy. 
The well continued for some time producing 
what would be considered anywhere else but 
in " Petrolia " a very large revenue. Although 
it paid uncle Charley twenty-five to thirty-five 
dollars each day, above all expenses, he was not 
satisfied; and finally declared "that tuppenny 
business was played out. I'll blow up the well, 
and make it do more, or nothing." 

"Blow it up!" echoed Arthur; " how will 
you do that.''" 

" I'U put a torpedo in it." 

"Torpedoes! Fireworks! O, goody!" ex- 
claimed Fred, with "enthusiastic applause," 
as the play-bills say. 

" You won't see much fireworks," said his 
uncle; "but if you and Arthur will go to 
Titusville, and tell Mr. Roberts that we want 
the Flag-and-Windmill Well ' torpedoed,' we'll 
see if we can't show you some oil-works." 

They went, and did the business correctly. 
A man was sent down the next day with the 
torpedo. The boys, as usual, wide awake to 
any new thing, very soon found out the machin- 
ery to explode the well. They discovered first 
a long tin tube, closed at one end and open at 
the other, two feet long, and two inches in 
diameter. This they learned was to be loaded 
with the explosive material. Then they fished 
out of a basket a queer iron contrivance. This 
was the head to the torpedo, to be fitted in 
after the case was full, and ready to let down 
in the well. 

Of course Fred had to try it on the case, 
" to see how it would fit." It didn't fit at all 
tightly; in fact it hung quite losely in the end 
of the case. 

"Hallo!" said Fred; "this won't do. 



You've brought the wrong head. It don't fit. 
and it will let the water in and spoil the pow 
der. You have got to go back and get another 
head." 

The man looked at Fred curiously, and 
said, "Boy, are you running this torpedo 
business? " 

Fred got snubbed for talking too fast and. 
too soon. When the man saw how confused 
Fred looked, he good-naturedly explained to 
him that they did not use powder, but a sub- 
stance called nitro-glycerine. It will explode 
in water, and is thirteen times more powerful 
than gunpowder. He brought the nitro-gly- 
cerine with him in a can, and he poured out a 
little and showed it to the boys. It looked like 
clear oil or syrup. He told them he should 
set it off in the well, not by touching a fire to 
it, as in the case of powder, but by shooting a 
bullet down into it. He put a few drops on a 
stone, and dropped another stone on it : it ex- 
ploded like a small cannon. He told them 
many stories about nitro-glycerine. Once an 
engineer at an oil-well stole a can of it, and 
used it for several days to grease his engine 
with. One day he set the can on the boiler to 
warm the oil : he thought it was cold and stiff. 
In a few minutes it exploded, and killed the 
man, and blew the engine-house, boiler, and 
machinery into thousands of pieces. Messrs. 
Roberts Bros.' nitro-glj'cerine magazine, near 
Titusville, exploded one day. The concussion 
was heard sixty miles away, and people all 
over that region thought another earthquake 
was at hand. 

The man now poured the nitro-glycerine 
into the tin case of the torpedo, and put the 
head on the case. The head of the torpedo 
was the hardest to understand. There was a 
round iron plug three inches long, bored out 
hollow, like a small cannon — which in fact it 
is. The vent, or nipple, and percusion-cap to 
shoot it, are in the rear, instead of on one side 
or on top of this little cannon. The cap 
and nipple are protected by being in a little 
round hole or chamber drilled in the iron. 
This little cannon is suspended, muzzle down- 
ward by an iron bail or handle; this bail sup- 
ports both the case and the head when be- 
ing let down into the well by means of a strong 
string or wire. The hammer to strike off the 
cap has a little point on it, small enough to 
reach down into the chamber in which the cap 
is set, and strike the cap. There is a hole in 
the hammer, through which the bail of the 
torpedo passes. This lets the hammer rise 
above the bail. The string that suspends the 
torpedo is tied to the bail, and passes through 



54 



PETROLIA. 



a small hole in the upper part of the hammer. 
Now when a weight is sent down on the string, 
it will strike the hammer before it does the 
bail. In order to keep water out of the cham- 
ber in which the cap is, a rubber band or col- 
lar is slipped over the joint between the 
chamber and the hammer; this keeps out the 
water, but is elastic enough to let the hammer 
drop down against the cap when the weight 
comes down on top of it (the hammer). 

The cannon or plug was loaded with gun- 
powder and a ball of lead, the 
cap put on, and the rubber band 
slipped over the joint. The man 
then fixed the head into the 
case bj two little screws. It 
was all ready, and he began to 
let it down slowly into the well 
by a coil of cord. 

When enough cord had been 
paid out to sink the torpedo to 
a point opposite the oil crevi- 
ces, the messenger to discharge 
it was slipped on the line. This 
is a tin tube eight inches long, 
with a ball of lead on one end. 
The ball alone would vibrate, 
and bound from side to side, 
and break the string. The tin 
tube served as a tail or guide 
to it, to keep it steady. Fred 
understood the effect of this by 
his experience with darts and 
arrows. He also compared the 
weight to the "messengers" 
he used to send up on the line 
to his kite. 

All was now ready, and the 
little messenger was started 
ii down the line through six hun- 
dred feet of water, to discharge 
the ■ magazine. The people 
around the well expected a 
great eruption, and stood back 
a respectful distance. The only 
occurrence was a suppressed, 
Torpedo Head, ^^-y^ report, and a little agita- 
tion in the well. 

"Why don't it blow the water out.?" asked 
the astonished and disappointed boys. 

"Water is just as good wadding as paper, 
if you get enough of it on top the load. It 
would take a bigger torpedo than ever was 
made yet to start that column of water up," 
said uncle Charley. 

The torpedo agent added, " We have to 
strengthen the case of the torpedo with steel 
ribs all around the inside, else the pressure 
would collapse it." 




While this talK was going on, Arthur stood 
gazing intently down the well. Suddenly he 
exclanned, — 

" Well, the water is blowed up, and ifs com- 
ing up no-vl " And with these words he start- 
ed on a run out of the derrick, pale with fright, 
as if he thought torpedo, water, oil, gas, well, 
and all were after him. 

At the same instant all the rest started 
towards the well to see what had frightened 
Arthur. Before they got to the well they 
were showered with water and oil. 

The Flag-and-Windmill Well had begun to 
spout again ! 




PETROLIA. 



55 



PART V. 



MABKETIWG OIL. — A FIEBY 
FKESHET. 



THE sudden jump of the Flag-and- Wind- 
mill Well from forty barrels up to two 
hundred, when " torpedoed," lifted uncle 
Charley, Arthur, and Fred on the top wave 
of fortune again, as their oil-boats had been 
lifted and carried away on pond freshets in 
former days. Owing to the better regulated 
systems of doing business, a two-hundred bar- 
rel well now was as profitable as an eight- 
hundred barrel well was at the time the Flag- 
and-Windmill Well was first struck. They had 
not now to pay so large a portion of their 
earnings for hauling the oil by teams ; it was 
all transported by other means. Also, the 
market was more settled, and paid more 
profitable figures. They never had any fears 
now of oil going down to ten cents a barrel, as 
was the case once, when so many big spouting 
wells were struck. The "flooding" of the 
market at that time, while it made oil almost 
worthless, and ruined many individuals, had 
a good effect, viz., it made oil so cheap that 
it came rapidly into use all over the civilized 
world, taking the place of all other illumina- 
tors. Thus a permanent demand for petro- 
leum was created, which the owTiers of wells 
afterwards got the good of, in a steady, cer- 
tain market. 

Another reason why uncle Charley and the 
boys did better with a smaller well was, be- 
cause they were not at the expense of buying 
barrels ; they sold all their oil in bulk. This 
expense, which was once many times the 
value of the oil contained in the barrels, they 
now saved for their pockets. 

When the large supply of oil recommenced, 
Arthur began to look about for the storage for 
it. He discovered, for the first time, that 
during their absence in Massachusetts uncle 
Charley had sold all but two of their tanks. 
Visions of another wasteful scene, like that 
when the Flag-and-Windmill Well was first 
struck, came in his mind. In consternation 
he ran to his uncle with — 

"Why, uncle, what has become of all the 
tanks? Where shall we put the oil?" 

" O, there's tankage enough, I guess! 
When our tanks get full we'll pipe it I " an- 
swered he, coolly. 

" Pipe it ! Pipe it 1 " said the boys. " What's 
that!" 

They soon discovered a pipe had been 



laid from their tanks to a large iron tank a 
few rods below. When their tanks were full, 
uncle Charley told the boys to go down to a 
little building near the big tank, and tell the 
agent of the Pipe Line, that the Flag-and- 
Windmill Well wanted to deliver some oil. 

They went. On the building was a little 
sign, which read — 

BLOWALL PIPE LINE CO. 
Station No. 9. 

They found the agent inside, and did their 
errand. He said " they could turn on in 
about twenty minutes; if they would wait 
he'd tell them when he was ready." 

They waited. In a few minutes he went 
out to the big tank. The boys, of course, 
followed, and all three climbed up a ladder to 
the top of the tank. It was covered over, 
except a hole about two feet square, to which 
a trap door was fitted, like all the rest of the 
work, of iron. The top was covered over with 
sods, on which green grass and flowers were 
growing. 

"Well," exclaimed Fred, "I should think 
this was one of the hanging gardens we read 
about ! What makes you let this tank all grow 
up to grass so ? " 

" We sodded it over to keep the sun off; the 
heat of the sun sometimes sets gas and oil on 
fire, and explodes a tank." 

" How large is this tank? how much does it 
hold?" asked Fred. 

"It is eighteen feet high, forty-five feet 
across, and holds about five thousand bar- 
rels," answered the agent. 

" Then there are about two thousand five 
hundred barrels of oil in it now. It's about 
half full, I should think," said Arthur, peering 
down into the tank. 

" We won't ffuess at it, I reckon," said the 
agent, smiling. He then took a long pole, on 
which feet, inches, and quarters of inches were 
marked, and set it down to the bottom of the 
tank. Pulling it up again he looked at the 
mark of the oil on the pole, and found the 
depth of the oil to be eight feet three and one- 
fourth inches. Putting this measurement down 
in a little book, he said, " Now you may turn 
in your oil." 

" But aren't you going to empty the tank 
first? We don't want our oil to go in with any- 
body else's oil, I guess," said the excitable 
Fred. 

"It won't make any difference if it does 
mix. Your oil isn't any heavier than the pro- 
duction of other wells here. It makes no dif- 



56 



PETROLIA. 



ference to you, so long as you get back all the 
oil you put in, does it?" said the agent. " I 
know how many barrels there are in the tank 
now, and I will measure again, after your oil 
is in, and then we'll know how much you 
have run in." 

" How can you tell by the feet and inches 
how many barrels there are?" asked Arthur. 

"Go and tell your uncle to turn in the oil, 
and then come back to the office, and I'll show 
you," replied the agent. 

They did so. In the office the agent showed 
them a paper, all covered with figures ; it was 
framed, and hung up. He explained, — 

"This is a gauge-table. This column of 
red figures shows the depth of the tank, by 
quarters of an inch. And this column of black 
figures opposite shows the quantity of oil for 
each measurement." 

Arthur looked on the gauge-table for the 
depth the agent had entered on his book. He 
read it off thus : — 

8 f. 3 1-4 in. . . . 98,398 gals. 

"Now," said the agent, "divide that by 
forty-three, and see how many barrels there 
are in the tank." 

Arthur quickly announced the result to be 
two thousand two hundred and eighty-eight 
barrels and fourteen gallons over. 

"You see," said the agent, "your guess 
of twenty-five hundred barrels was too high: 
it would have lost you about two hundred and 
twelve barrels of oil." 

Presently the oil had ceased running in 
from the Flag-and-Windmill Well's tanks, and 
they went out and took another measurement. 
It was twelve feet eight inches. Looking on 
the gauge-table, they read again, — 



12 f. 8 in. 



150,695 gals. 



" Now subtract your other number from 
that, and you will know how much oil you 
have delivered," said the agent. Both the 
boys "worked the example," and found the 
difference between the two quantities measured 
to be fifty-two thousand two hundred and 
ninety-seven gallons. They divided this by 
forty-three, and learned they had one thou- 
sand two hundred and sixteen barrels of oil 
to pipe. 

This amount the agent put down to the 
credit of the Flag-and-Windmill Well. He 
also entered it on a little deposit book, which 
ho gave to them, just like a bank depositor's 
book, only he entered barrels and gallons of 
oil in it instead of dollars and cents. 

" There," said he, when it was done, " now 



you can check out your oil any time you 
please." 

" Will we get the oil here?" asked the boys. 

"No; at the railroad station." 

" Why," said Fred, " that's four miles from 
here. How will you get the oil over there? " 

" Come in here and I will show you," he 
answered. 

He took them into an engine house, where 
there was a boiler attached to a machine, that 
looked like an engine, with a tall, hollow air- 
chamber. 

"Halloo!" cried Fred. "See this funny 
engine, with a balloon on it! " 

"That's not an engine," said the agent, 
" it is a force-pump. It forces the oil through 
four miles of pipe, to the company's tanks on 
the railroad. It runs by steam, and has force 
enough to carry the oil over hills that dis- 
tance. Your oil will all be over the mountain 
in a short time; but you can check out, and 
sell it now if you want to. There is plenty 
of oil in the company's tank to draw from." 

The next day uncle Charlie told the boys 
they might go to Oil City, and sell five hun- 
dred barrels of oil — he had such confidence in 
their business capacity and trustworthiness. 
He told them to get from the agent of the 
Pipe Line a " certified check " for so much 
oil, and sell it for the best price they could 
get. Arthur went to the office, and told the 
agent he wanted to call five hundred barrels 
of oil. 

" To whose order shall I draw it? " asked he. 

"I don't know. It is not sold yet," replied 
Arthur. 

"Very well. I'll leave it blank." He then 
filled out a printed order, to read like this : - - 

Barrels, 500. 

BLOWALL PIPE LINE, 
Deliver to or order, Five 

Hundred Bbls. Crude Petroleum, of 43 galls, 
each, and charge to account of Flag-and- 
Windmill Well. 

Collect 25 cts. pipeage. 

Chas. Arthur & Fred Sears. 

A line in fine type at the top of this blank, 
said, "This order is not good until accepted 
by agent of station at which the oil is re- 
ceived." Accordingly the agent wrote his 
"acceptance" across the face of the order, in 
red ink, in these words : — 

"ACCEPTED at owners' risk for any loss 
by Fire, Leakage, Evaporation, or Bursting of 
Tanks. 

"John Ward well, 
"Agent lor Blowall Pipe Line." 



PETROLIA 



59 



The "pipeage ' is the charge of twentj-five 
cents a barrel for transporting the oil through 
the pipe. 

This certified order was all the bojs needed 
to sell their oil with. It was as good as if 
they took the oil with them on wagons or 
rars. The little slip of paper was good for 
five hundred barrels of oil anywhere. They 
went to Oil City, where large sales of oil were 
made daily, and where large numbers of re- 
finers, agents for foreign dealers, agents for 
refineries in different parts of the country, 
speculators, oil-brokers, &c., met well-owners 
and sellers of oil. Hundreds of thousands of 
dollars' worth here exchanged hands daily. 

Arthur mixed up with the throng, and lis- 
tened to the prices asked and paid for crude. 
Much of the talk he could not understand, as 
he was not acquainted with the terms used. 
He understood enough to satisfy himself what 
he should ask for his oil. 

As they were pushing their way into an ex- 
cited knot of dealers, one of the men said, im- 
patiently, ''Boys, stand back! Go 'way! 
What do you want here.'' This is no place for 
boys." 

" I want to sell some oil," said Arthur. 

" O, you do ! What j'ou got.-*" 

" Five hundred barrels crude, at the deliv- 
ering tank of the Blowall Pipe Line." 

'* Give you $3.26." 

"Guess not," said Arthur; " I just heard 
offers as high as $4.10." 

The man found he could not cheat Arthur, 
and so moved away. Three or four dealers, 
attracted by the novel sight of the boys doing 
business there, had gathered around. In a few 
minutes Arthur sold his oil to one of these 
men for $4.25. He first deducted two barrels 
for each hundred, which the Pipe Line re- 
tained to make itself good for leakage. This 
left him four hundred and ninety barrels to 
sell. This, at $4.25 per barrel, came to 
$2,082.50, as Arthur figured it up. The pur- 
chaser reckoned it, and at first made a mistake 
of over one hundred dollars. 

He said, "I guess you've made a mistake, 
young man." 

" Maybe I have; I'll work it again," replied 
Arthur. 

Fred, meantime, picked up the paper the 
man had been figuring upon, and reviewed 
his work. In a minute he said, respectfully, — 

"Mister, haven't you made a mistake.''" 
And he pointed out the error. 

The man looked at it a minute, and then, 
with much confusion at being caught in a 
blunder by a boy, said, — 



"Yes, yes, I presume your figures are all 
right." 

" I am sure they are," said Arthur, who had 
by this time been over them twice. " Two 
thousand and eighty-two fifty is correct." 
" How much is your pipeage .'' " asked the man. 

"Twenty-five cents per barrel," said Arthur. 

"Well, take that out. How much does it 
amount to .f"' asked the man. 

Arthur quickly found that the tankage would 
be one hundred and twenty-two dollars and 
fifty cents. Subtracting this amount from the 
first one, Arthur found the balance to be one 
thousand nine hundred and sixty dollars. 
For this sum the purchaser gave them a check 
on an Oil City bank. They took the check to 
the bank, and asked the cashier to give them 
a certificate of deposit for the money, which 
he did. This certificate of deposit they could 
sell precisely as they had sold the accepted or- 
der for oil. 

When the man paid them for the oil, he took 
out two five dollar bills and gave one to each 
of the boys, saying, "You just keep mum 
about that mistake of mine ! " The boys said 
they would keep still about it, if he wanted 
them to, without the money, and tried to make 
him take it back. He said, "O, that's all 
right; keep it. If you don't want it, send it 
home to your sisters, if you've got any, to 
buy dolls with." And so he left them. Fred 
said, — 

" Well, he's a funny man. Good one, too." 

"I guess he's got some girls and boys of 
his own at home," said Arthur. 

When the boys got back, uncle Charley 
praised them for managing the business so 
well, and told them they might market all the 
oil thereafter. So, as often as five hundred 
barrels of oil accumulated, and the market 
was up to a good paying price, the boys made 
a sale of it. They soon became as well known 
" on change," as any of the old oil men. They 
were prompt, accurate, bright, and civil, and 
at the same time fresh and boy-like, so that 
everybody liked to see them, and deal with 
them. Fred's theory was a good one; most 
of the men had families and children at home, 
far away, and liked to be reminded of them by 
the presence of a couple of good, bright boys. 
The boys found ready, good-natured answers 
to their numerous questions, and so they soon 
became well posted regarding everything con- 
nected with the business. 

One day a famous oil-broker, who had taken 
quite a fancy to them, said, — 

" Boys, oil is going up soon. Why don't 
you hold ytturs for a rise?" 



6o 



PETROLIA. 




The Shipping-Range. 



"Uncle doesn't think it is going up, and he 
says sell," answered Arthur. 

"Your uncle isn't posted. I'll tell you what 
you do. Let your uncle sell his share, if he 
wants to, and you store your share sixty days, 
and see who comes out ahead." 

The boys thought the matter over, and final- 
ly concluded to hold fart of their oil, as the 
broker advised. So they hired tankage, and 
had five hundred barrels of their share stored. 
Uncle Charley told them they would lose by 
not selling; but they were determined to try 
it on one lot. Arthur said, — 

"The price is low now. Everybody says it 
can't go mucfi lower. If we see it decline fast, 
we can sell that much any day, and not lose 
much. It will not break us if we do lose 
something on this lot, and we may make." 

The result proved that the oil-broker was a 
better judge of the market prospects than un- 
cle Charley. In less than a month oil began 
to advance. In a short time it rose three dol- 
lars on a barrel, and the boys sold. They 
cleared on that lot one thousand five hundred 
dollars more than they would if they had 
sold, and that much more than uncle Charley 
had made by selling before the rise. The fact 
was, a few large dealers were managing mat- 
ters so as to force the market up, and ATthur 
and Fred had been let into the secret. 

This same " ring" of speculators cleared a 



million and a half of dollars by the same rise 
on oil they held. Only Arthur learned they 
did not buy or own the oil they had made 
their money on at all. They only took "op- 
tions " on it, and then, when it went up, 
sold it for the latest price, and paid the 
real owners the old, low price. This is what 
they call "bulling" the market — as if they 
had put horns under the price of oil, and 
raised it. When, by the same means, the price 
of oil was forced down, they called it "bear- 
ing " the market — as if they had reached 
sharp claws up and pulled the price down. 

One day the proprietor of a big oil refinery 
at Cleveland, Ohio, who had got acquainted 
with the boys, and had visited them at the 
Flag-and-Windmill Well, telegraphed them as 
follows : — 

"To Arthur and Fred, 

" Flag-and-Windmill Well : 
"Ship me eight hundred bbls. crude, and, 
draw for amt., at current price this day. 

" Wm. Winsor." 

As they did not have quite so much oil on 
hand as this order called for, they had to buy 
some to make up the amount. Arthur pro- 
posed to go to Oil City and buy it; but his 
uncle said they could buy it a little under the 
market at some of the wells near by. Oil be- 
ing now on the decline, with a prospect of its 



PETROLIA. 



6i 




"Now, let's smother it!" cried Uncle Charley. 



going still lower in price, owners of small 
lots would be anxious to sell, and would take 
less than current market rates, in anticipation 
of getting even less if they held it. The 
boys soon picked up enough, here and there, 
to fill the order, and got the most of it at 
prices from ten to thirty cents below the 
market. That much was profit. 

They had it all piped to the railroad. They 
then went to the office of the Oil Car Trans- 
portation Co., and engaged cars to take eight 
hundred barrels of oil to Cleveland. The 
cars they engaged were called taiik-cars. A 
tank-car is a common flat car, with two wood- 
en tanks set upon it. Each of these tubs 
holds forty barrels, making each car carr^' 
eighty barrels of oil in bulk. Thus the cost 
of barrels is saved. It took ten cars to carry 
the oil to Cleveland. 

The Blowall Pipe Companj^'s delivering 
tank held twenty thousand barrels of oil when 
full. It was located as near the railroad track 
as it could be safe from the fire of passing 
trains, and elevated on a bank higher than 
the track. A large iron pipe from the tank is 
laid on a platform ten feet high, by the side 
of the track, for several rods. To this pipe 
are attached long-nosed spouts, at such places 



as will bring a spout opposite each tank on a 
train of oil cars. Each spout has a stop-cock, 
which is turned by a wrench, to let out the oil. 
This platform, with its pipes, spouts, &c., is 
called a shifpijiir-ratige. 

Arthur directed the oil train to haul up be- 
side the shipping-range. The covers to the 
holes in the tops of the car-tanks were un- 
screwed and taken oflJ". The spouts, which 
were attached to " goose-necks," and could be 
turned any wa^', were placed in the tanks. 
Arthur and Fred now went through on the 
platform, and turned all the stop-cocks, and 
the oil ran furiously into all the twenty tanks 
at once — the big reservoir of oil on the bank 
above forcing it through with a great pres- 
sure. In a very few minutes the tanks were 
all full. The stop-cocks were turned, the 
spouts taken up, swung around on the plat- 
form, and laid down alongside of the main 
pipe. The Transportation Company then 
gave Arthur a shipping bill or receipt for the 
oil, stating how much oil had been delivered 
on the cars, to whom, where, and for what price 
it was to be carried. This bill he sent b^' mail to 
Mr. Winsor, at Cleveland. He then went to the 
bank, and drew a draft on Mr. Winsor for the 
amount of the eight hundred barrels of oil. 



62 



PETROLIA. 



While the boys were at Titusville, on this 
business, a despatch came over the wires, say- 
ing that a great fire was raging on the Run, 
on which the Flag-and-Windmill Well was 
situated. They took the first train back. 

Long before they reached the spot, they saw 
the smoke and glare of an immense conflagra- 
tion. As they neared the spot, they saw the 
grandest, but most terrible sight they had 
ever seen or imagined. 

No one knew how the fire commenced. The 
first warning was an explosion, and a sheet 
of flame from a small tank, a few rods above 
the Flag-and-Windmill Well. The fire spread 
rapidly after being once started. On the gas 
that filled the air, the flames leaped from well 
to well, and from tank to tank. Each well 
became a burning one. The flames wreathed 
and twined up the tall derricks, which, being 
dry, and saturated with oil, burned with won- 
derful fury and brilliancy; on these ladders 
the fire climbed, and from the tops soared far 
up into the air. The exploded tanks covered 
the ground with oil, and this soon formed a 
burning river, which flowed down the moun- 
tain, destroying all before it. 

The Flag-and-Windmill Well had been 
reached by the fiery flood before the boys got 
there; they were just in time to get a glimpse 
of the flag at the top of the derrick, before it 
fell. Everything else was covered and con- 
cealed in a dense, black smoke and flames. 
The volume and blackness of the smoke was 
wonderful; it made such a contrast and back- 
ground to the flames, that belched out from 
the midst of it, that they resembled flashes and 
streaks of lightning in the blackness of night. 
It seemed as if the flame was wrapped and 
smothered in a black swathing, from which it 
was constantly struggling, with fierce roars, 
to escape, and only succeeding partially. In 
this contest between smoke and flame, it 
rose two or three hundred feet in the air, 
pitching and writhing like monstrous birds in 
warfare. This sight, so utterly beyond de- 
scription, and disastrous as it was, held Ar- 
thur and Fred spellbound with awe and admi- 
ration. All they had ever seen, read, or ima- 
gined did not equal it. One man, who had 
seen a grand volcanic eruption, and passed 
through a great earthquake, said this was a 
more wonderful sight than the former, and 
a more wonderful scene than the latter. The 
heat of ten thousand barrels of burning oil, 
with the gas of a dozen wells, and the wood- 
work of tanks, engine-houses, derricks, build- 
ings, &c., thrown in for kindlings, drove ev- 
erybody ha^f a mile back. 



Of course, nothing could be done, to extin- 
guish such a maelstrom of fire as this. When 
it came to a tank, or a little pond of water, the 
conflagration was only more terrific; the con- 
test between the two elements added new and 
more terrible fury to the flame. All the fire 
engines in the world, playingon this fire, would 
not have stopped it. Water never can put out 
an oil fire. The only thing to do is, to confine 
it and let it burn itself out. 

The fire was rapidly making its way down 
the hill, finding new material, and increasing 
its volume constantly. In its course, on the 
river bank, lay a town, and numerous big 
tanks of oil. If it reached there, it would de- 
stroy all this, and get volume enough to pour 
out on the river, and cover its surface with a 
sheet of flame, to roll down aiid destroy all 
below. No one could tell where the destruc- 
tion of property, and perhaps life, would end, 
if the burning stream flowed on. Worst of all, 
no one seemed to know what to do; hundreds 
of men stood, as if paralyzed, by the horrors 
of the conflagration. 

At this crisis, uncle Charley called all the 
men to follow him. He led them down the 
Run, below the fire, and began to throw up a 
dam, to stop the burning oil. This effort, at 
first, did not succeed. The fiery freshet 
reached them before they had got their work 
done, and drove them off". It filled the dam 
with a seething, roaring flood of flame, and 
presently poured over in a grand cascade of 
fire, and resumed its way to the river. 

The men now went farther down, and se- 
lecting a spot between two high ledges of 
rocks, began to throw up another dam. The 
location was favorable, the time to work in 
longer, and as many fresh men were arriving 
every minute, there was more help, so they 
did much better execution. The spot was 
covered with men like bees in a hive, and as 
all were stalwart, hard-working men, mostly 
young, who were now fighting destruction off 
their own property, they did wonders. Before 
the burning stream had reached the spot the 
dam was done. 

"Now," cried uncle Charley, " came up here, 
men, with your shovels! " They all followed 
him up to the top of the high banks of their 
impromptu dam. Here he had them collect 
piles of loose earth on the brow of the bank. 

"What is this for?" asked several. 

" Wait and see," said their self-elected leadei. 

In a few moments the first waves of oil and 
fire began to pour down the gulch into the dam. 

"Now let's smother it!" shouted uncle 
Charley. 



P E T R O L I A . 



63 



" Hurrah !" cried the men, when they un- 
ierstood the plan ; "let's smother it ! " And 
hundreds of shovels sent the damp, heavy 
earth down over the burning caldron. 

This had more effect than any quantity of 
water could. It deadened the flame somewhat. 
The dam retained the stream until the fire 
burned itself out, sufficiently so that the fresh 
avalanches of dirt sent down finally covered 
and smothered it. 

In this fire, twenty-eight wells and their rigs 
and tanks, and fifty thousand barrels of oil, 
were destroyed. 

The Flag-and- Windmill Well was now ru- 
ined again. Its production had been steadily 
reducing, until, at the time of the fire, it was 
not paying largely. The fire finished it, and 
it was never restored. 

Although the boys and their uncle lost a 
large amount in the fire, they had, on the 
whole, cleared enough money, so that each 
of the boys had $9,500 of his own. 



PART VI, 



PBOSPECTIISTG FOE TERRITORY. — 
FINDING "THE BELT." 



WITH the burning of the Flag-and- Wind- 
mill Well, uncle Charley, and Arthur, 
and Fred went out of the oil business in that 
locality. They sold their lease and went to 
search for other oil territory. They had be- 
come such confirmed " greasers," — the boys, 
as well as their uncle, — that they were less 
ready than ever before to quit the business. 
The excitement of seeking greasy wealth, 
through all risks and obstacles, had become a 
necessity to them. 

Several weeks were spent in looking for ter- 
ritory that promised to afford paying wells. 
In those places where the best wells had been 
found, the land had all been snatched up by 
sharp and early speculators. These men held 
their leases so high, demanding so large a 
royalty for their shares, — sometimes reserving 
as nigh as three fourths of all the oil found, — 
that the boys did not care to invest and take 
so many chances to get so little oil at last. 
On the other hand, where they could get fa- 
vorable leases, the territory was not prom- 
ising. 

One day, in their prospecting for territory, 
they met a man who offered to tell them ex- 
actly where they could find a good well, by 
boring, if they would pay him five hundred dol- 
lars for the information. 



"And how do you propose to get this infor- 
mation.''" asked uncle Charley. 

" By the direction of the spirits," answered 
the man. 

" Well," said uncle Charley, " if you think 
that is a pretty certain way to locate paying 
wells, why don't you go into it for yourself."" 
If you'll take a half interest and pay half the 
expense, we'll put down a well as you, or the 
spirits, direct." This the man declined to do. 

At another time they came across another 
kind of " oil-smeller," as they are called. He 
took a forked stick, cut from a hazel-bush, 
and holding the two ends of the fork in his 
hands, with the joined end of the twig up- 
ward, he walked slowly over the land whei-e 
it was supposed oil might be found. At cer- 
tain points the twig bent slowly downward, 
from an upright position, until, without hav- 
ing turned the ends in the man's hands, it 
pointed straight towards the earth. He 
claimed he had nothing to do with its point- 
ing down, and, in fact, that he was not able 
to stop its turning. In proof of this, he 
showed that the bark had been twisted and 
loosened where he held it in his hands. 

This mystified the boys very much. They 
asked their uncle what made the twig turn 
down. 

•"The man says it is the oil in the ground 
that attracts it, and pulls it over, as the north 
pole does the needle of the compass." 

"But does it.? Is it oil.?" asked the incred- 
ulous boys. 

"Well," said their uncle, cautiously, "I 
never heard of hazel-twigs pointing out any 
rich territory. It is called witch-hazel, be- 
cause people have supposed it had some super- 
natural powers, like a witch. But I have seen 
twigs from the peach and other trees act the 
same way. So I guess there is about as much 
witch in one tree as in another, and none in 
any of them, if foolish men let them alone 
/don't go a cent on territory located by su- 
pernatural means. There are those who do, 
however, and they sometimes get paying wells, 
though not any more frequently, or any more 
surely, than where wells are located entirely 
by wild-catting." 

" What is wild-catting.? " asked Fred. 

" What we are at. We are ' wild-cats,' 
prowling around the country, seeking to de- 
vour a good show," answered the uncle. 

While this conversation was going on, the 
party had been sitting on a ledge of rocks 
overlooking a wild and romantic .scene. The 
Allegliany River ran far h^low them, andlhey 
could trace its winding course for many miles. 



64 



PETROLIA. 



Its white strip tnrough the dark landscape of 
mountain and forest looked like a silver band 
on a velvet cloak, Fred said. Here and there 
the dark background was also speckled with 
white, where the steam of an engine showed 
a live oil well. On the other side was a wild 
ravine, down which a small stream fretted and 
roared. While uncle Charley and Fred were 
enjoying the scenery and commenting on it, 
Arthur was differently engaged. He was 
looking about him, but with a purpose in 
view. He became so interested in what he 
was investigating, that he left the party, and, 
going up to the top of the hill, climbed a tree. 

"What are you after. i*" at length cried his 
uncle; "have you treed a coon.? I should 
think you were ' wild-catting ' in earnest." 

" I am," said Arthur. 

Presently he came down from the tree, and 
told them what he had discovered. He said 
that he had noticed that the point where they 
sat down was on a line between the producing 
territory on the river and that on the creek. 
By climbing the tree he had discovered, still 
further, that the puffs of steam from engine- 
houses, which indicated operating wells, were 
Almost all in a line, sighting from the tree, 
both on the river and on the creek, six miles 
apart. Off that line there were many derricks, 
but no life ; they were dry wells ; engines and 
working beams were motionless. "Now, 
what does that mean?" thought Arthur. 

" It means that those wells that are produ- 
cing are on an oil-belt, as it is called. There 
may be two belts, one on the river and one on 
the creek. If both developments are on the 
same belt, and we are on the direct line be- 
tween them, I shouldn't wonder if the belt 
runs right through under this spot." 

Uncle Charley grew excited as he rapidly 
told this theory off to the boys. He was 
walking quickly towards the tree from which 
Arthur had descended, talking and gesticulat- 
ing, as he went. He climbed the tree, and 
looked long and carefully over the many 
miles of territory spread out before him. In 
all that vast area the producing wells lay in 
one line, as Arthur had described. While 
there were hundreds of cflrricks in sight, the 
derricks of the live wells were in a line that 
he could look across almost as he could along 
a row of shade trees. 

" I declare, boys ! " cried he, excitedly, from 
his high lookout, "I believe we've struck a 
big thing. I believe we're on the same belt." 

" How are we going to find out for certain ? " 
asked Fred, when his uncle had descended. 

" That's the question now before the meet- 



ing," replied uncle Charley. "If the wells 
over the other side of the river and these up 
here on the creek are alike in depth, and ap- 
pearance of oil, and of the rocks bored through, 
I should be inclined to think they are all on 
one belt. And, of course, if they are , all this 
territory, for six miles on the direct line be- 
tween them, is on that belt also, and will be 
good territory, though no one suspects it now." 

"Then we can lease this territory cheaply, 
if we want to, I suppose," said Arthur. 

" Yes; or buj' it out almost at our own fig- 
ures. These 'Bwckwheats' don't know any- 
thing about its value," said his uncle. 

"Buckwheats!" said the boys; "what are 
they .? " 

"Ah," said his uncle, laughing, "that's a 
slang name some people give to the farmers 
and residents in the woods here. Their land 
is so poor it won't raise much but buckwheat; 
so the people live on it so much, they get that 
name." Uncle Charley acted as if rather 
ashamed of having used it. 

" We are Buckwheats, then," said Fred. 
" Our land at home is as poor as this, and we 
eat lots of buckwheat; and I like it, too. And 
I don't care if you call me a Buckwheat." 

They now arranged that Arthur should go 
up the creek, where the wells were pumping, 
and uncle Charley go over the river, and each 
find out all he could about the wells- there. 
Then they were to meet and compare notes, 
and see if the wells in the two localities re- 
sembled each other. 

They went. By questioning the owners and 
drillers of the different wells they learned 
what those men knew. In nearly all the 
shanties, or in the engine-houses adjoining 
the wells, or else in the offices of the owners 
of the wells, were preserved specimens of the 
different kinds of rocks found in each well. 
They asked for little specimens of these to 
compare with similar ones from all the other 
wells. 

When they had collected all these facts and 
specimens they brought them together. It 
turned out as uncle Charley had suspected : 
these wells, six miles apart, separated by a 
mountain, were almost exactly alike. There- 
fore they concluded that they could find good 
wells all along the line, or belt, six miles be- 
tween these developments. 

They were so well satisfied of it that they 
determined to put down a well. So they went 
to the house of the man who owned the farm 
they wanted to lease. It was an old log- 
house. The spaces between the logs were 
filled with sticks and mud. The timbers of 



PETROLIA. 



^5 




Prospecting. 



the roof projected several feet from the side 
of the house, and were loosely covered with 
slabs to make a "veranda" in front of the 
house. The hinges and latch of the one door 
to the house were wood. Numerous hats and 
garments were stuffed in the broken panes of 
the small windows. They stepped on the 
loose boards that formed the floor of the ve- 
randa, and knocked. A gruff voice from 
within pronounced the single word, — 

" Walk!" 

Not understanding this remark, and in un- 
certainty as to the first knock having been 
heard, they tapped louder on the door. 

" Walk! " this time louder and gruffer than 
before. 

They opened the door and entered. The 
owner of the farm was eating his dinner. His 
wife and two boys had apparently dined be- 
fore; for he was seated alone at the table. 
The single i-oom below was roughly finished 
and furnished. A fireplace in one end, and a 
ladder in the other, where the boys went up 
to bed through a hole in the loose floor above, 
attracted the visitors' attention. 

The meal spread before the farmer consisted 
of one dish. That was fat pork swimming in 
its own grease. There was no bread, butter, 
5 



potatoes — nothing but that one dish. The 
farmer scraped the entire contents of the dish 
on his plate, and ate it. 

He was a thin, dark-complexioned, un- 
combed, elderly man. His boots were not 
mates. He wore no vest: his suspenders 
were a compound of tow-string and leather. 
One of them had a sort of buckle, the 
tongue to which was gone. In place of it he 
stuck a shingle-nail through the strap, to 
hold it. When he wanted to take a hitch in 
his suspender he would move the nail up one 
hole. 

Uncle Charley commenced negotiation by 
asking the farmer how much land he owned. 

" Wal, I consider there's clus ontew two 
hundred and sixty acres on"t," replied he. 

"Do you think any of it will ever be oil 
territory.'"' asked uncle Charley. 

" Reckon not. Hojv could ile git up so fur's 
this.^ Guess we'll alwus be scace on't for ile 
up here." . 

" Wouldn't you like to let some one test 
your land for oil, if it cost you nothing.''" 

" Dunno but I mout, if he didn't git too 
near the house, and spile my 3-ard." 

His " yard " was a patch of weeds in which 
several long-legged, long-ftosed pigs, and two 



66 



PETROLIA. 



or three thin calves, and a multitude of geese 
pastured. 

" Well," said uncle Charley, " I don't know- 
as there is a foot of oil on your farm ; but 
they are finding oil in a good many queer 
places now, and no one knows but we might 
happen to strike a smell even up here. We've 
got a little money to throw away on an exper- 
iment, and if you've a mind to give us a lease, 
we'll sink a hole to venture. What do you 
say ? " 

The farmer bit a large piece off a big plug 
of tobacco, took out a huge jackknife, and 
commenced to whittle at the side of the house, 
and finally, turning to his wife, said, — 

"What d'ye say, old woman? Would you 
let 'em bore a hole in our land .'' " 

The "old woman" didn't like the idea. 
She said, — 

" 'S like's not the critters'U be falling down 
the ile well, 'n gettin' drownded." 

At this, Fred, with a boy's irreverence and 
love of a joke, laughed, and said to Arthur, 
" he presumed they would if they were all as 
small as those out in the yard." The farmer 
did not hear this remark plainly; so he leaned 
forward, and looked at Fred, and said, — 

"Hay.?" 

Fred looked confused, and made no answer 
to the interrogatory. Then the farmer said, 
bluntly, — 

" Youngsters should be seen, and not 
heei-d." ' 

Then, resuming the subject, he said, — 

"I am afeard ye'll litter my farm all up; 
and if you strike one of them flowing wells, 
everything will be all daubed up with ile. I 
won't have the looks of my farm spiled in 
that way." 

These and many other similar objections 
uncle Charley talked out of the way, and at 
last got them to consent to make a lease. 
After this was done, he had still more objec- 
tions to overcome, to get them to put into the 
lease an " option clause," by which they 
would give uncle Charley the power to duy 
the farm at any time within a year. This 
was finally arranged by putting in the option 
clause with the price stated at one hundred 
dollars per acre, which uncle Charley should 
pay, if he decided to buy the land. The 
'fai-mer said his land was worth, for farming 
purposes, about ten dollars per acre; and he 
thought, when he put in the price at one hun- 
dred dollars per acre, he had got it so high 
there was no danger of these meddlesome 
Yankees ever paying that sum, and taking his 
farm away from him, which calamity was the 
thing he sought to avert. 



Even then the old lady did not think they 
were entirely safe from scheming strangers 
seeking to pay them ten times the value of 
their land. She "was afeard they'd be 
shunted clean out o' house and hum." So 
she insisted they should leave out of the con- 
tract their house and barn (a low shed), and 
five acres of land, which could not be sold. 
To please her the contract was so drawn. 

It took two or three days' negotiation to 
talk them into the agreement and get the pa- 
pers signed. They immediately let the con- 
tract to have the well drilled. They employed 
a surveyor to run a line directly from the 
biggest wells on the river to the best ones on 
the creek. He marked the line by "blazing" 
the trees that grew upon it. "Blazing" was 
done by cutting a chip out of one side of a 
tree with an axe. While running this line 
through a ravine on the farm they had leased, 
they discovered a coal mine. This gave them 
cheap fuel to run their engine with. Other 
wells were supplied by hauling coal up the 
mountain from the river — a tedious and cost- 
ly business. 

All indications were favorable, as the well 
went down. In about three months they had 
gone down nine hundred feet, and the flow of 
gas and " show " of oil from the second sand 
was large ; so much so, that they felt sure of 
success. 

The old farmer did not share their hopes. 
He came occasionally to see how they were 
getting along, and to tell them they "couldn't 
find nothin'." 

Uncle Charley instructed the boys and the 
drillers not to try to persuade the farmer into 
hopefulness of success. They rather took the 
same despondent view of it that he did. Mean- 
time, uncle Charley was carefully talking him 
around to completing the sale of the land. 
In fact, the old farmer was so sceptical as to 
the oil prospects of his land, that he consent- 
ed, before the well was down, to sell the whole 
(except five acres and his house and " barn ") 
for seventy dollars an acre, and thought he 
had a good bargain at that. 

W^hile this negotiation was in progress the 
work of drilling had stopped. The drillers 
announced that the tools were fast in the well, 
one thousand feet down, and spent several 
days working over it. As soon as the sale was 
made, the drillers succeeded in bringing out 
the tools. Uncle Charley was there when the 
tools were drawn, and the men told him there 
were " five hundred feet of oil in the hole ; " by 
which they meant the well had already filled 
with oil to that depth. 



PETROLIA. 



67 



PART VII, 



PIiAG-AND-'WIJKrDMIIiL WELL NO. 2.- 
CONCLUSION. 



THE well was speedily finished, the pump 
and tubing put in, and, in a few days, 
the well was pumping steadily at the rate of 
forty-four barrels per day. This strike was 
the greatest fortune the " boy operators " had 
enjoyed. As the land itself belonged to them 
and uncle Charley, they owned all the oil 
produced. 

As soon as the news of this strike on a " new 
belt" had got abroad, — which it did very 
speedily, — • crowds of operators and specula- 
tors came to see it. Everyone was astonished 
to see such a well in such an unexpected lo- 
cality. The boys and their uncle were over- 
run with applicants, eager to get leases, and 
give the owners half the oil. As the excite- 
ment increased, higher offers were made for 
leases, until several offered to pay two thousand 
dollars for the chance to put down wells, and 
give half the oil obtained. This extra price of- 
fered for the privilege of a lease is called a bonus. 

Uncle Charley now called the boys into the 
engine-house, and said, — 

" Well, boys, we've got a big thing. The 
well is a good one, and, what is better, we 
own all the territory near it. Now, what shall 
we do.? Shall we go on and put down the 
wells, and thus secure all the oil for our share .'' 
or shall we give other parties half the oil, if 
they will be at the expense of sinking wells.? 
Shall we develop the territory ourselves, or 
lease it.?" 

Arthur said, "What bonus can we get for 
leases ? " 

" Three thousand dollars on each acre lease 
is now offered," replied the uncle. 

" And how much does it cost to sink a well 
ourselves ? " asked Fred. 

"About five thousand dollars," he replied. 

" So," said Arthur, "if we give leases, we 
get and save, together, on each acre, eight 
thousand dollars." 

"Eight thousand dollars," repeated his un- 
cle. "And we run no risks." 

" But, then, we get only half the oil," put in 
Fred. " So we do run a risk of losing half the 
oil on a good well. We don't know but we 
may strike a two or three hundred barrel 
well." 

" That's so," said his uncle. "And, if we 
should, half of the oil would pay all the ex- 
pense of sinking the well in a short time." 



" I think," said Arthur, " that we had better 
put down more wells ourselves, until we find 
out what kind of a belt we have got. If it 
improves, we can make better leases than we 
can now, with only one well down. If it 
proves no better than at present, we can al- 
ways make plenty of money out of it, either 
to hold and develop for ourselves, or to lease 
to others. We have money enough to put 
down half a dozen wells." 

"For that matter," said his uncle, "this 
well will furnish all the capital we need to 
carry on our operations." 

So they agreed to grant no leases at pres- 
ent, but to go on and sink more wells for 
themselves. They therefore announced to all 
applicants that there was no territory to sell 
or lease on that farm. 

The operators immediately bought — or 
leased, if they could not buy — all the farms 
around the new territory. As most of these 
were not on the belt which Arthur had dis- 
covered, — the operators not being possessed 
of the secret of its location, — but little of the 
territory produced oil. A narrow belt of land, 
north-east and south-west of the one the boys 
owned, proved to be rich territory. All the 
rest showed dry holes. 

" What are you going to call this well and 
farm ? " asked Fre'd. 

Arthur said he would like to call the well 
" Flag-and- Windmill Well No. 2," in remem- 
brance of their first fortune in oil. 

" That is all right," said his uncle. "And, 
as you first discovered this belt, I think we'd 
better call this the ' Arthur Tract.' " 

Arthur felt highly complimented by this, 
but said he'd like to have Fred's name men- 
tioned in some way. 

" O, we'll give Fred's name to the next big 
well we strike," said uncle Charley. 

Fred said that was satisfactory. 

They now let the contract to sink three more 
wells, near the Flag-and-Windmill No. 3. In 
prosecuting this work, they hit upon one or 
two plans that economized the work and saved 
them a large sum of money. With the oil 
from the Flag-and-Windmill Well No. 2 an 
immense quantity of gas came forth. It rose 
from around the casing, and from the tank 
into which the oil was pumped, looking like 
waves of hot air from a furnace, or from the 
surface of the ground on a sultry day. To 
secure it from spreading and taking fire from 
the engine-house, they had connected a pipe 
with the well, and conducted it a hundred feet 
away. They then set fire to it at the end of 
the pipe. It burned with a body of flame as 



68 



PETROLIA. 



large as a hogshead, and twenty or thirty feet 
long, with a roar like escaping steam from a 
large boiler. It made a light that could be 
Been at night ten miles away. 

One day, as Fred stood looking at this flame 
from a safe distance, the idea occurred to him, 
"What's the use of wasting all this fuel.'' 
Why can't we make use of it, and save 
coal .'* " 

He immediately proposed the plan to his 
uncle. Uncle Charley declared it was just the 
thing, and muttered to himself, — 

"What an idiot I have been not to think of 
that before ! It would have been twenty-five 
thousand dollars in my pocket by this time." 

The engineer, to whom they submitted the 
matter, said he thought it would work, and 
added, — 

"You have gas enough to heat a boiler for 
a dozen engines." 

" There's another good idea," exclaimed 
Fred. " Instead of buying a boiler with each 
engine;- why not get one boiler that will make 
steam for four or six engines.? Will one big 
boiler cost as much as six small ones.'"' 

"Not half as much," said his uncle. "And 
it will save an engineer at each well. One 
man can run four or six engines, with one fire. 
Fred, that's a good idea. You're a trump." 

Although Fred didn't know exactly what 
kind of an animal a "trump" was, he under- 
stood he'd suggested a valuable improvement. 

It proved to be so. The big boiler was 
bought, and three engines without any boil- 
ers. By purchasing in this way, they saved 
twelve hundred dollars on the start. 

When the boiler was set, a small pipe for gas 
was laid into the furnace under it. When the 
stop-cock was turned, and the gas lighted un- 
der the boiler, it filled the furnace and flues 
full with roaring flames. It made steam very 
fast, the heat was so intense. 

When they flrst started this supply of fuel, 
tkey had an explosion. They had to uncap 
the casing, to make some alteration in the 
tubing, which allowed most of the gas to es- 
cape at the opening of the well. The pressure 
was thus reduced in the gas-pipe, and the cur- 
rent was not strong enough to feed the flame, 
and keep it clear at the end of the pipe. The 
flame followed the stream of gas into the pipe, 
and blew up the whole length of it, and set 
fire to that around the well. The result was 
a fire that burned the derrick. It stopped it- 
self, nearly, and in this way : The iron cap 
that screws on the top of the casing was lifted 
only a little, at the time of the explosion, and 
held up by a chip placed under it. As soon 



as the chip burned, the cap dropped of itself, 
and stopped all the supply of gas, except what 
came fi'om one opening. This was very easily 
stopped by shovelling damp dirt upon it. A** 
this was not a flowing well, there was no oil 
to supply a fire. A conflagration of gas alone 
is easily managed. 

When they got repairs made, and the pipe 
laid to the boiler again, they put in the pipe 
a valve, called a check-valve, which, by clos- 
ing as soon as a back-flow of gas set in, would 
check it. The check-valve opens only for a 
strong current of gas running yV-o/w the well. 

By laying steam-pipes from the big boiler 
to the different engines, an abundant supply 
of steam to run them all was furnished. As 
the gas cost nothing, there was no expense in 
making steam. 

Nearly as many people came to see this new 
contrivance, as if it were another big strike. 
Of course they all asked, "Who was the 
smart chap that thought of that.''" When the 
boy Fred was pointed out as the inventor, peo- 
ple were still more surprised. The engineer 
got some paint, and lettered the big boiler, — 

Fred's Patent Heating Apparatus. 

He intended the "patent" part of it for a 
joke ; but half the visitors believed it 'Mas a 
patent; and one sharp man tried to buy the 
right to use it for all the Oil Country. Fred 
frankly told him it was no patent, and any one 
could use it without fee. The drillers told 
Fred he was a fool ; that he ought to have 
sold the man the right, if he was green enough 
to buy it. 

"No," said uncle Charley, who overheard 
the remark; "Fred was right, morally and 
legally. It would have been both dishonest 
and illegal to sell a fictitious right. It would 
have been fraud, and Fred would have gotten 
into trouble if he had done it. So you men, 
that are ridiculing Fred for not cheating, are 
really the foolish ones — not he. I'd advise you 
never to try to live by your wits dishonestly. 
You'd soon play out for want of capital." 

The men looked rather cheap and crest-fall- 
en at being thus reproved for lack of both 
honor and brains. 

The new wells proved to be all good ones; 
one of them flowed one hundred barrels per 
day when first struck, and finally settled down 
to pumping seventy-five steadily. 

Operators now were willing to pay as high 
as a five thousand dollar bonus for a lease. 
Thus the decision of the owners of the Arthur 
Belt to develop their own territory proved a 
wise one. 



PETROLIA. 



69 



They were soon getting so much oil that 
they had to provide a pipe line to pipe it to 
the railroad for shipment. A pipe company 
wanted to lay this line for them ; but they de- 
cided, as in the matter of developing the farm, 
to do their own business, — or. as uncle Char- 
ley expressed it, to " run their own machine." 
They had capital enough to construct the pipe 
line, tanks, and shipping-range at the rail- 
road, and had already steam enough, free of 
cost, to operate the force-pump to send the oil 
over to the shipping-range. So they con- 
structed the pipe line, and thereafter it cost 
them nothing to ship their oil. 

They presently built a neat house for an of- 
fice of their extensive business and a residence. 
Arthur wrote home for his sister Nelly to come 
and manage the house for them, promising 
her a half interest in a good well for her sal- 
ary as housekeeper. Nelly came, and made a 
very happy home for them, and a handsome 
little purse for herself; for both her brothers 
and uncle insisted on sharing their good for- 
tune with her. 

They now had on the Arthur Tract a vei"y 
complete petroleum farm. With the land and 
all the wells belonging to them ; an abundant 
production of greasy wealth ; the almost cer- 
tain promise of more, whenever they pleased 
to bore more wells; a well-systematized, care- 
fully and economically managed business; a 
transportation line also belonging to them, 
arranged conveniently to throw oil from any 
well on to the oil cars three miles away, at 
any moment, — they had the snuggest estab- 
lishment, and the best prospect of great wealth 
of any firm in the Oil Regions. 

Besides, they had a very pleasant home in 
•the naountains. Home comfort is a thing much 
lacking in petroleum life. They fitted their 
house up elegantly, as became young oil 
princes. Pleasant grounds were enclosed and 
beautified ; abundant springs from the moun- 
tains above supplied them with fountains and 
fish ponds, which Fred took pains to have 
abundantly stocked with trout. The wild, ro- 
mantic scenery, pure air and water, added to 



the pleasure of all this wealth and comfort, as 
well as contrasted with it. 

Arthur, Fred, and Nelly were now so happy 
and prosperous that they only lacked the com- 
pany of their parents and little Lulu to make 
their contentment complete. After much per- 
suasion, — by mail, — the family was finally 
induced to sell the Massachusetts farm, and 
remove to the Oil Regions. Each one, Ar- 
thur's father included, was given certain dutie,s 
to do. Mr. Sears, being a good mechanic, was 
given charge of all the engines and boilers, 
and other machinery on the farm. It kept 
him- pretty busy to see them all kept in order. 

One of the numerous wells they sank pro- 
duced no oil, but it did send forth prodigious 
volumes of gas. It came out with a pressure 
that roared like steam, and could with diffi- 
culty be controlled. Mr. Sears thought this 
powerful pressure could be used to s'ome good 
purpose. So he conveyed the gas in a pipe 
into the force-pump, used for piping oil. To 
his satisfaction and the astonishment of every- 
body, the gas, when turned into the cylinder, 
operated the pump better than steam. Pipes 
were now laid to the engines, and the pressure 
proved sufficient to run them all. The steam- 
gauge showed the pressure of gas to be ovei' 
two hundred pounds to the square inch. Thus 
boilers and fires were abolished, and all the 
machinery operated by a power furnished from 
the same source with the oil. 

They now had an establishment not only 
rich in oil, but one it cost nothing — or al- 
most nothing — to work. With the certain 
prospect of immense wealth before them ; with 
pleasant home surroundings ; with enough to 
do to keep them healthy and contented, and 
not so much to do that they could not go upon 
pleasure excursions, and take occasional trips 
to Europe ; with plenty of means, so that 
they could enjoy the luxury of doing good, — 
in which best way of all they spent much 
money, — all of them had abundant cause to 
bless the day they came to Petrolia, and to 
thank the good Father above for the abundant 
blessings they enjoyed.. 





o 

Q 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



71, 


















Sam suddenly descends. Page 72. 



AMONG THE EAITSMEN. 

BY FRANK H. TAYLOR. 

I.— MAKING KAFTS. 

IN Western New York and Northern Penn- 
sylvania the large pine forests, which once 
covered the greater portion of these sections, 
have been cut down and converted into lum- 
ber, and floated down the Alleghany and Ohio 
Rivers, to be used in building the cities upon 
their banks. Some of the lumber has even 
been carried to New Orleans ; and we may, 
perhaps, find in every city, from New Orleans 
up the Mississippi and Ohio to Pittsburg, lum- 
ber which grew far up among the hills of West- 
ern New York. Where this timber once grew 
are now rich farms. Villages of from two to 
ten thousand inhabitants have arisen upon 
the site where the old pilots who now run the 
river once cut timber for their rafts. 

But the want of pine timber is already being 
felt, and hemlock is taking its place. Trees 
that fell centuries ago, and were left as worth- 
less by the first timber hunters, are now 
dragged forth from the places where they have 
lain so long, and all available portions of them 
used. Logs that have lain unnoticed until the 
greater portion of them has decayed, ai-e used 
for shingles. 



But the raftsmen still keep their vocation. 
Each spring the river carries down thousands 
of feet of lumber to the Ohio and Missis- 
sippi cities, and all through the year car- 
loads of timber are shipped east and south. 
The old race of raftsmen, however, is disap- 
pearing, and with it many of the incidents 
of the rough life which lent a peculiar charm 
to a trip " down the river." 

Fights with the inhabitants were then an 
everj'-day occurrence. The}' replenished their 
tables with fowls from hen-roosts and mutton 
from the flocks of sheep by the river-side. 
Foraging is continued to this day; and it is 
not considered a theft by the raftsmen to ap- 
propriate to their own use anj' stray animals 
or fowls they may have the good luck to 
find. 

And with this preface we introduce our 
readers to our heroes, and follow them down 
the river. 

Lawrie and Clare Norton were city boys, 
twins, fourteen years old, and were spending 
the winter and spring with their cousin, Sam 
Norton. Their uncle was part-owner of a 
steam saw-mill and a lumber-tract; and they 
enjoyed themselves in watching the trans- 
formation of the huge pine trees from their 
fall in the forest until they were thrown 
from the mill in the shape of boards. All 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



winter men with teams had been busy at 
work, felling and drawing the logs, work- 
ing from four o'clock in the morning until 
long after dark at night. The mill had not 
ceased work, except on Sundays, tiirough the 
whole season. Two sets ot hands were em- 
ployed at the mill, one working through the 
day, the other at night. 

The mill-yard was filled with huge piles of 
boards; £.nd in the latter part of winter a new 
set of men and teams was hired to draw the 
lumber to the creek. 

" We shall be rafting to- morrow," said Mr. 
Norton, one evening, "and if you boys wisli 
to see the work, come down with some of the 
teams in the morning." 

" What time do the teams go.'' " asked Sam 

" The first loads go at four o'clock. But 
you can eat breakfast, and come down on some 
of the second loads."" 

The boys were up early m the mornmg, 
and, eating a breakfast of buckwheat cakes 
and mince pie, hastened to the mill-yard. 

Here was a busj' scene. Teams were com 
ing and going at all times. The men upon 
the board-piles were kept busy shoving off the 
boards upon the sleds, which were backed up 
to the piles. They grasped a board at the op- 
posite end from the sled, and, with a twitch, 
sent it upon the load, where it was quickly put 
in place bv the loader. 

The loads were built nearly five feet high 
and five broad, each load containing over two 
thousand feet of boards. When the load was 
finished, it was bound on with chains, and a 
binding-pole, twisted through the forward 
chain, was bent down and fastened behind 
The horses were imniediately whipped into a 
trot, and the huge load swayed from side to 
side over the rough road, sleds creaked, drivers 
hallooed, and the vacant place was immedi- 
ately filled by another sled. 

The boys mounted one of the loads, and 
seated themselves on the boards. The greater 
part of the road was slightly descending, so 
that the horses did not pull in the least, and 
were constantly trotting. Where the road 
went through a gutter, or up a small pitch, the 
horses were put into a gallop, and the impe- 
tus carried them over it. , 

At the foot of one of these hillocks was a 
sluice, where the water ran through, and over 
which a few boards had been placed. These 
had been worn smooth by the continual pass- 
ing of teams, and made a jump in the road. 

" Take care of yourselves now," shouted the 
driver, as he started the horses down the pitch. 
•'There is a jump at the bottom here." 



But instead of jumping, the last sled struck 
the boards, shoved them aliead, lan against 
the opposite side of the sluice, and stuck fast. 
The horses had gained such force in the run 
that they snapped the double whiflletree like 
a cord, and dragged the driver off the front of 
the load. He alighted upon his feet, however, 
and quickly stopped them. 

Sam had been sitting on the edge of the load, 
with his feet hanging oft", and the sudden shock 
threw him head first into a snow-bank, where 
only his feet were visible. He was quickly 
dragged from this position by the driver, and 
set upon his feet, puffing, and very red in the 
face. 




"I'll show you youngsters a trick with rough materials." 

"Well, 3'oung porpoise, how came you 
there.?" 

" Why, your stopping was rather unexpect- 
ed, and I followed the natural law of gravita- 
tion." Sam had read Isaac Newton. "Just 
let me know a little beforehand when you pro- 
pose to stop again, and I'll be ready to stop. 
too." 

" Now 3'Ou"ve got to go back," said Clare, as 
he looked at the broken whiffletree. 

" Don't be so sure," said the driver. "I'll 
show you 3'oungsters a trick with rough ma- 
terials." 

He took an axe, one of which was with every 
sled, and went into the woods. He soon re- 
turned with a beech stick about three feet long 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



1Z 



and six inches through. This he hewed down 
upon each side, until it was about an inch and 
a halfthick. 

" Now don't j'ou think I can get along?" 
asked he of Clare. 

" Have you an auger.'' " asked Clare. 

"No." 

"Then j'ou can't make the holes." 

"See here," he said, cutting a notch in the 
side of the stick, near the middle, just deep 
enough for the draw-bolt to set into. Then, 
upon the opposite side from this notch, and 
about two inches from each end, he cut two 
holes large enough for the single whiffletree- 
bolts. 

"There, it is all made," he said, and proceed- 
ed to put it in its place. The whiffletree was 
so wide that when the clevises were fixed in 
place they could not slip off the ends. " That 
is rough work, but better than to waste half 
an hour in going after a nicer one." 

When the boys arrived at the creek, they 
found a scene as lively as the one in the mill- 
yard. The boards were unloaded on the bank 
of the creek, where men were busily engaged 
in placing them on the rafts. 

A raft had just been begun, and the boys 
went down to the edge of the water to watch 
the work. A large number of odd-looking 
sticks were lying about the bank, fashioned 
like a cudgel, about three feet long, and with 
a large knob, at the end. Lawrie asked one 
of the men if they were shillalehs. 

"Yes! a raftsman's shillaleh," he replied; 
" but they go by the name oi grubs here. We 
use them in the place of nails and bolts, to 
hold the rafts together." 

"What are they made of.'" 

" Oak saplings. We cut off the top of the 
sapling about three feet from the ground, and 
then cut and grub them — that gives them 
their name — out of the ground, leaving a large 
piece of the root on, to form a shoulder or 
head. The stem is trimmed down to fit an 
inch hole. 

" But how do you use them .? " queried Law- 
rie, determined to trace the grub through all 
its changes. 

" Watch us begin this raft, and you will see 
their first use." 

Three planks had been laid down, parallel 
to each other and eight feet apart, while they 
were talking. Each plank had three holes in 
it, one at each end and one in the middle. 
Through each hole the raftsmen fixed a grub, 
with the head under the plank, forming a 
square of three rows of grubs each way. The 
planks were fastened together with three 



boards, bored with holes like the planks, for 
the insertion of the grubs. These were laid 
across the planks, a board to each row of 
grubs, and thus the bottom of the forward 
part of the raft, or the first platform, as the 
raftsmen call it, was made. This platform 
was pushed into the water, and another one 
commenced by inserting the grubs at the end 
on shore into the end holes of three other 
planks, and these were connected together by 
boards the same as before. This made a raft 
thirty-two feet long and sixteen wide, or two 
platforms. Three more platforms were added 
to these, forming a raft nearly eighty feet long, 
some of the length being taken up in lapping 








" Then just run to the lower rafts and get us an axe." 

the ends ot the planks together. As fast as a 
platform had been laid, the men pushed the 
raft farther into the water, and now it stretched 
far down the stream, looking like a huge lad- 
der with cross-boards ever}' eight feet. 

The raftsmen now began to lay boards across 
the planks, to form the first tier or bottom of 
the raft, commencing with the last platfonn 
made. 

" Now they're filling up the space between 
the rounds of the big ladder," said Sam. 
" Won't it be a nobby place to run on when 
they get it laid clear through.'"' 

" Are 3'ou good on the run.'* " asked one of 
the men. 



74 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



" Yes, sir," replied Sam. 

" Then just run to the lower rafts and get 
us an axe." 

Sam looked disconcerted at their putting his 
running powers to use, but started oft" when 
the men added that, — 

" Boys must be useful as well as seen." 

When the boards had been laid to the end 
of the first platform, three more boards were 
put on the grubs, two at each side and one in 
the middle, and directly over the planks first 
laid down. Thus the first tier of boards was 
laid between the planks below and the boards 
above. The space between these boards was 
now filled up, the boards being laid directly 
across the tier of boards below, and thus al- 
ternately with each tier and platform. 

When five or. six tiers had been laid in this 
manner across the whole of the raft, the men 
proceeded to straighten it, for each particular 
platform had taken its own course, turning 
upon the grubs as if the}' were pivots. 

To do this, boards about twenty-three feet 
long were used. Holes had been made in 
these as in the other boards, and they were 
put on from the middle grub on one platform 
to the opposite one on the next platform. The 
end of each board was lapped on the ends 
of the middle grubs; and this combination 
throughout the whole raft brought the sides 
into a perfectly straight line. The straighten- 
ing boards were then taken off", and the work 
of laying the tiers resumed. From eighteen 
to twenty tiers form a raft. When a raft was 
finished and tied to the bank with cables, they 
hung the oars. Clare and Lawrie were look- 
ing for the oars as the men spoke of hanging 
them. 

" Can't I get them for you ?" asked Lawrie, 
willing to help, and thinking they were on 
the bank. 

"Well, yes," said the foreman, Mr. Ames. 
" You will find them iust beyond the boards, 
on the bank. Bring them down here, and I'll 
give you a cent. You other boys may help 
him." 

Clare started, but Sam only grinned, as if in 
expectation of some fun. The boys could see 
no oars when they reached the place indicated. 
There were only some long poles, with big 
boards pinned to the ends, and which Clare 
said looked like liberty poles with guide-boards 
nailed at the larger ends. 

"We can't find them," shouted Clare. 

"There they are. Pick them up and come 
on," said Mr. Ames, coming up, and pointing 
to the long sticks. 

The boys looked at him in astonishment. 



" Those big sticks oars ? " 

"Yes; but you don't seem to think you can 
lift them." 

"We didn't eat an over-large dinner, and 
don't feel very stout ; so I guess we won't try 
it," said Lawrie, laughing. 

"Well, take hold, men, and carry a couple 
down to the raft." 

The men lifted the oars upon their shoul- 
ders, and placed one at each end of the raft. 
Oar-pins were then fixed in the raft for the oars 
to swing on, and a large hole was bored in the 
oar to fit it. The oar-stem was nearly forty 
feet long, eight inches in diameter at the large 
end, where the paddle-board was fixed, and 




"There they are ; just pick them up and come along." 

tapering down to a handle at the other end. 
The paddle was a board six feet long and two 
inches wide pinned on the large end of the 
oar-steiTi. Hanging the oars consisted in pla- 
cing them upon the pins; and when this was 
done, the raft was completed, except its cargo. 

The boys wondered how the oars could pull 
the raft along when at the ends. 

" Does the raft go sidewise ? " they asked of 
Mr. Ames. 

" O, no. We let it float down with the cur- 
rent, and only use the oars to keep it in the 
stream. They are just the same as rudders to 
a ship," he replied. 

" You'll make raftsmen some day," said Mr. 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



15 



Ames, as thej were going home that night; 
" and a good, healthy life it is, too. A sick 
raftsman is as rare as a June snow-bank." 

" But it is all on account of the exercise and 
early rising," said an old man, who had run 
the river for years, and was the pilot of the 
rafts. " Scholars in schools can be as healthy 
if they would only work a little each morning. 
Laziness is as much a disease as fever, and 
kills more men." 

" There won't be no chance to-morrow for 
laziness," said Mr. Ames. "If the wind speaks 
true, we'll have a storm before morning. If a 
rain-storm comes and takes off the snow, 
there'll be such a flood as we haven't seen for 
years." 




tired; but Clare said, as he lay down, that it 
was worth a day's hard work to have such a 
pleasant feeling of rest. 

Lawrie was awakened in the night by a 
shouting, and springing out of bed, he heard 
the rain falling on the roof, and saw the gleam 
of lanterns in the yard. Going to a window, 
he heard a man calling to his uncle, who soon 
appeared. 

" The creek is rising," shouted the man, 
whom Lawrie recognized as Mr. Ames, " and 
we must go for the rafts if we expect to save 
anything." 

" How long has the rain been falling.'"' 
" Nearly six hours, and steadily, too. The 
gutters and roads are full of water, and the 
creek will be over banks before morning." 

Lawrie awoke the boys, and, hastily dress- 
ing, ran down stairs to the kitchen, which was 
full of men. 

" Let me go with you, uncle," said he to 
Mr. Norton, who was putting on his oil-cloth 
overcoat. 

"Whew! What are you out at this time 
of night for.'' And here are the other boys. 
Why, you'd get drownded if j-ou went; the 
rain itself would carry you off." 

" Let them go," said the voice of the old 
pilot. " Boys won't be easy at home when 
there's anything exciting going on; and I'll 
warrant they'll take care of themselves." 

"Well, get on jour overcoats, and take a 
bite of something to eat, while we bring out the 
horses. But you mustn't be getting in the 
way," said Mr. Norton. 

The boys promised they would not, and were 
ready to go as soon as the horses were at the 
door. 



"The creek is rising." 

" If it does rain," said the pilot, " 3'ou boys 
better drop down and see us. It will be a sight 
you'll never forget." 

The boys promised they would, for they saw 
the old pilot took an interest in them, as such 
rough men do in all boys Avho do not put 
themselves forward too much. 

" I guess exercise does make an appetite," 
said Sam, while eating supper. " It gives the 
victuals a good relish, at least." 

" I should think so by your eating," said 
Clare. 

" Well, I should like to eat enough to carry 
those oars to-morrow," laughed Sam. 

Sleep came quickly to the boys' eyelids that 
night, for the long day's work liad made them 




76 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 




Thk Bovs take a Bath. Page 79. 



AMOM THE EAPTSMEN. 

BY FRANK H. TAYLOR. 

II. — RAFTING. 

IT was raining furiously, and the rush of 
waters could be distinctly heard in the 
woods, sounding like the rumbling of cars. 
It was so dark that nothing could be seen be- 
yond the light of the lanterns which the men 
carried. The feet of the horses splashed in 
water at every step, and at times the wagon 
would drop into a sluice nearly to the box, 
where a bridge had been swept away. The 
boys were greatly excited with the romantic 
scene, and only hoped the water would rise 
higher. 

" It will be high enough, my lads," said the 
pilot. "The rain itself would be sufficient to 
raise the creek; but you see there is snow 
enough on the ground to make as much water 
as has fallen. Where you saw the large banks 
of snow yesterday, there won't be enough left 
to make a snow-ball by morning. I remember 
a flood we had two years ago, when the snow 
was no deeper than now, and in six hours 
from the time it commenced raining the creek 
was overflowing its banks. 

"A small brook, which was dry the greater 
part of the year, rose so suddenly that it car- 



ried away the larger portion of a village on its 
banks, and one whole family was drownded. 
The stores and churches were moved into the 
middle of the streets. One church floated 
against a hotel, moved it from its place, and 
stopped on its walls, while the hotel went 
down the stream.* The creek was full of hay, 
grain, and lumber for days afterwards, and 
some people made a rich harvest by gathering 
them. 

" But see," he exclaimed, as they came to 
a place where the road ran on the edge of the 
creek, "it is full banks already;" and he 
swung his lantern out towards the water. 

The boys could see the black, turbid water 
rushing along, boiling and foaming, and now 
and then splashing up into the road where 
they were riding. Its surface was covered with 
pieces of boards, floating trees, and chips; 
and the rafts were stretching the cables far 
down the stream. 

" We must send the horses back immedi- 
ately," said Mr. Norton, springing from the 
wagon, " or the water will catch them." 

The men alighted, and the horses were sent 
home. 

" Now, work with a will, men," said Mr. 
Norton, " for we will have all we can do to 
save our lumber before the water comes up." 



A fact. 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



77 



He called the boys to him, and gave them 
the lights to hold. 

" Follow the men," said he. 

Large piles of boards were still unrafted, 
and were in danger of floating down the creek 
as soon as the water should reach them. Some 
of the rafts were not completed. 

"These must be finished first," said Mr.' 
Norton. " Lay hold of the boards, and we'll 
beat the water yet." 

The men rapidly transferred the boards from 
the piles to the rafts, each one working with 
a will. When one tier of boards had been 
laid the whole length of a platform, another 
was commenced by other men, to be followed 




Building the fire. 

by another; and thus several tiers were being 
laid all at once, one set of men following 
quickly after another, and each striving to get 
their platform on to the heels of those ahead. 
Bets were freely made among them; and oft- 
times the forward men were but a board ahead 
as the platform behind them was finished. 
The boys caught the excitement, and wished 
to help on the rafts. 

"Build a fire," said Mr. Norton, "to light 
us by, and we'll give 30U work." 

They placed the lanterns where the men 
could see, and commenced gathering materi- 
als for the fire. Pieces of boards lay all about, 
which they quickly collected into a huge pile; 
shavings were whittled, and a light applied. 



The wood was wet, and the fire sputtered and 
snapped in the rain, which was still falling; 
but some pitch-pine knots were soon in a blaze, 
and the fire leaped up through the darkness. 
The boys felt the sublimity of the scene, as 
the huge fire sent its glare far out over the 
waters, lighting up almost to the lowest raft, 
revealing the rough forms of the raftsmen 
moving swiftly about, the rushing waters sway- 
ing the rafts to and fro, and throwing deep 
shadows just .beyond its farthest limits. 

All the boards had now been carried upon 
the completed rafts, which were drawn up be- 
side the others, and Mr. Norton called the 
boys to. push the boards from the piles to the 
raftsmen. The rafts were so near each other 
that the boys had only to swing the boards 
around, by balancing them acrqss the pile, so 
that the raftsmen could grasp the end and 
pull it to them. At last onlj' one raft was left 
uncompleted, and all hands were at work on it. 

"Why, it is growing darker," said Sam. 
"Our fire is going out. We'll go and fix it up." 

" It's the water," said Clare ; " don't you see, 
it is putting the fire out.^ Uncle, the water is 
rising I " 

*' So it is ! " said he, as he saw the waves 
about the fire. " It is rising fast. Get the 
lanterns." 

" We left them by the fire," said Sam. 
"They're in the water before now." 

"We'll be left in the dark, then. Here, get 
into this boat, and see if you can find them. 
It will be a pretty fix if we have no light." 

There were a number of boats tied to the 
rafts, and the boys sprang into one of them. 
They could all row well for their age; so Mr. 
Norton did not fear to trust them with the 
boat. 

The fire was fast dying out, only the higher 
sticks burning, and every moment some of 
these were falling into the water. The boys 
rowed the boat to where they thought the lan- 
terns had been left, and Lawrie, reaching over 
the stern, attempted to find them. He could 
not touch bottom. 

" Hand me a stick," said he; " the water is 
too deep." 

Splash went another brand into the water. 

"Come, hustle," said 'Sam, "or we won't 
have enough light to see to tip over by, in a 
moment." 

Lawrie felt around on the bottom, but could 
touch nothing. 

"The boat is drifting away," said Clare; 
" give it a push." 

Sam dipped his oars, and one of them struck 
somethin<r metallic. 



78 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



" There's one," said Clare; "3'ouroar hit it." 

" I've got it," said Lawrie, as the boat swung 
around; " and here's another." 

"And there's the liglit," said Sam, as the 
last brand fell into the water, leaving them in 
darkness. 

" Row this waj," shouted Mr. Norton ; and 
guided by his voice they reached the rafts. 
A light was soon produced. 

"Now we'll put extra cables to the rafts, 
and wait until morning. It will be daylight 
in half an hour." 







Cables were fastened to the grubs on the 
rafts, the end put into a boat and carried to 
trees on the bank, where they were made fast. 
Some of the rafts were tied to each other, side 
by side, and all were brought up close to- 
gether. 

The boys made a rough shelter of boards on 
one of the rafts, and lying down under it on 
some oil-cloths, listened to the falling rain and 
rushing waters. 

"Wouldn't mother be scared if she knew 
where we were now.'"' said Clare. 

"I guess she is thinking of us," replied 
L,awrie. 

" More likely dreaming of 3'ou at this time 
of night," said Sam. " Isn't it splendid, 
though? It reads like a book. Here comes 
the old pilot." 

" We're going to have a big one," said he. 



sitting down under the boards. "The whole 
creek will be a lake before night, and you boys 
can make some spending money by catching 
lumber to-day. There will be thousands of 
feet come down the creek from the mills 
above." 

" This will be a splendid time to start down 
the creek — won't it.''" asked Lawrie. 

" Not much. If we started now, we'd be 
more likely to land in the middle of some 
meadow than at Cincinnati. The wind and 
current would carry us out of the creek and 
into the woods, in spite of the men." 

" When will you start.'"' 

" When the creek begins to fall. You see, 
while it is rising, the currents run from the 
creek, and when it is falling, the water turns 
and runs towards it. So there will be no dif- 
ficulty in keeping a raft in the centre of the 
stream while the water is falling." 

" How long will the water stay up?" 

"I have seen it over the flats four weeks; 
but this freshet will probably subside in less 
time, as it has arisen so rapidly. I think we 
may start in two weeks." 

" Won't it be jolly? Uncle has said we may 
go with him, and aunt is going too." 

"Yes; ladies go down the river very often 
now; but I've seen the day when such a thing 
would be thought impossible. But women do 
help to make the trip more pleasant, and it 
keeps the men in mind of their own wives. 
But now we'll see how the water looks." 

The boys had been lying down, with their 
heads covered, and when they roused up, they 
saw it was quite light. The men were out in 
boats, fixing the rafts, and making new tying- 
places, or catching boards and logs that were 
floating down the stream. To the surprise of 
the boys, nothing could be seen of the road, 
and only an opening through the trees showed 
where it was. The stream, which was only a 
few rods wide the night before, was now stretch- 
ing half a mile on each side, and still rising. 
They could see that the snow was nearly gone 
from the hills, only a few snow-banks being 
visible. It was still raining slowly. The water 
looked black and muddy, and large cakes of ice 
and creek rubbish were being borne out from the 
stream by the current which settled landward. 

" Here comes some timber," shouted one of 
the men; and looking up the creek, the boj's 
saw a mass of boards floating down. 

Thej' were lying in every imaginable posi- 
tion, piled one on another, sticking out from 
the sides, and mixed with branches of trees 
and old rubbish. Some of the boards had 
dropped off, and were floating around it. 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



79 



"Jump into this boat, boys," said the palot, 
" and we will help bring it in." 

The pilot threw some ropes into the boat, 
and followed the other men. The lumber was 
setting in towards the land, and was some dis- 
tance from the bed of the creek. As they ap- 
proached, it looked like a pile of boards which 
had been well '' stacked," but had been torn to 
pieces coming down the creek. 

"Take the end of the rope, and jump on the 
boards," said the pilot to Sam and Lawrie, who 
sat in the bow of the boat, as they touched the 
pile. " Now hitch it to some of the boards." 

The boys made an opening in the top among 
the loose boards, and found a plank near the 
middle, to which they tied the rope. The 
other boats did the same. 




"The pilot pulled him into the boat." 



" We'll stay on here," said the boys when 
the ropes had been hitched to rings in the boat. 
"We can ride here well enough, and see to 
the ropes." 

"Take care, then," said the pilot, as the 
boats started. The pile dipped and pitched like 
a ship at sea as the boats pulled it along; and 
the boys found it was not easy to keep their 
balance. The bottom boards would sometimes 
touch the ground, and swing the pile around 
with a jerk, nearly throwing them off. As 
they neared the rafts, the limbs of an old tree 
which lay in the water caught in the cracks at 
the bottom, and the next moment the pile sep- 



arated. The boys stood near the middle, and 
the ropes jerked the boards from under them so 
quick, that they were flat on their backs. They 
eagerly clutched the boards as they fell, and, 
clinging to them, were thrown into the water. 
The boards prevented their sinking, however; 
and as soon as their fright was over, they drew 
themselves upon them. They had fallen in 
the middle of the pile, where it separated, and 
they climbed upon the two separate portions, 
where they sat laughing at each other, with 
little streams of water running from their 
clothes. 

" Come here and help me," shouted Sam to 
the pilot, "orl'll slide off again." 

The pile on which he sat was constantly 
falling t9 pieces; and before the boat could 
reach him, they slid again, carrying him with 
them. But he clung to the boards, and the 
pilot pulled him into the boat, dripping from 
head to foot. 

The pile on which Lawrie sat swung clear of 
the tree, and floated against the rafts, where he 
'<prang off. The boys shook themselves, let 
the water run from their boots, and chased 
each other around the rafts until they were 
w arm. 

"You won't catch cold if you keep moving," 
s.iid the pilot, "nor feel any hurt from the 
ducking." Nor did they. 

The boards had been fastened to the raft by 
passing a long cable around them, and more 
lumber was caught. The pilot had gone 
in another boat with the men, leaving his 
boat tied to the raft. 

" Say we catch some timber on our own 
hook," said Lawrie, after they had exercised 
some time. 

"I'll do it," said Sam. "Here, Clare, you 
get in the stern of the boat to catch it, and 
Lawrie and I will row. Yonder are some 
shingles; we'll bring them in." 

The shingles were floating on the opposite 
side of the creek, and had escaped the notice 
of the men until they were now nearly against 
the rafts. The boys pulled for them; but the 
current was so strong, they were not reached 
until far below. There were ten large bunches 
of the shingles floating in a pile. The boat 
was backed up, and Clare threw the rope 
around them, fastening it to the ring in the 
stern. 

"Now we'll pull up this side of the creek, 
where the current is not very strong," said 
Lawrie. "Then we can come down with it, 
and it will save us much hard pulling." 

They managed this so well, that they soon 
landed their load at the rafts, and started 



So 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



after another. So well did they work, that 
their "catchings" soon formed a large pile. 

"You'll have some spending moncv, I 
guess," said Mr. Norton, as he viewed their 
work. "These shingles bear the mark of Mr. 
Arlington, the richest lumberman in these 
parts; and he will pay you well for saving 
them." 

"One of the rafts is loose," shouted Clare, 
as they were returning from one of their trips. 
" There it goes down the creek." 

The boys looked, and saw it just swinging 
into the current. None of the men was in 
hailing distance. 

" We must save it," said Sam. " Lay to the 
oars, and we will catch up with it before it 
floats far away." 

They pulled to the rafts as quickly as possi- 
ble, left their load, and started after the raft, 
which was now some distance down the stream. 
They pulled with all their force, and soon 
brought the boat alongside. Clare sprang 
upon it, and grasped a rope which lay on the 
raft, one end of which was fastened to a grub. 
Then springing back into the boat, he told 
them to pull for some trees which grew on the 
bank. Around one of these he wound the 
rope, until all slack was taken up; and Sam 
helped him hold the end. This could be easily 
done, as it was wound about the tree, and the 
raft slowly came in towards the shore. It 
swung around until the rope was straight with 
the current, when with a jerk the rope parted 
close to the tree. 

" Never mind ; we'll have it yet," said Sam. 
" See ; it hasrun into the bushes. We gave it 
such a swing, it has cleared the current." 

They pulled quickly down, and sprang upon 
it. It had run the forward oar into the bushes, 
and swung broadside upon them. The broken 
rope was dragged in, and several hitches made 
to the trees near by, securing it from going 
farther. 

" Here comes uncle Philip and the pilot," 
said Clare; and Mr. Norton sprang upon the 
raft. 

"Well done, boys," said he ; "I didn't know 
but you had started on a trip by yourselves." 

The boys told him of their chase and cap- 
ture of the raft. 

" It wasn't fastened over tight, and the waves 
loosened the cables." 

"You'd have lost it, sure, if it hadn't been 
for them," said the pilot. " They're bricks, and 
you ought to give them a share in the raft. It 
is wholesale 'catching,' you see." 

"You may run this raft, and pay me half of 
the money you receive for it," laughed Mr. 



Norton. " That will give you half to pay 
your men and divide among yourselves." 

The next day a number of inen from up the 
creek came down to claim their lumber, and 
Mr. Norton brought one of them to the boys, 
saying, " Mr. Arlington, here are the boys 
who caught your shingles ; you may pay them 
the money." 

"What! these little fellows.?" said he. 
"Well, boys, you have done well. We will 
count the bunches, and see what they are 
worth. Sixty quarter bunches at a dollar each 
are sixty dollars, and Ave pay one tenth for 
catching them, which will be six dollars." He 
pulled out an old wallet, and laid a two-dollar 




•' Is that all right? " 



Is that aL 



bill in each of the boys' hands, 
right.'' " 

"Yes, sir, thank you," said the boys. 

" Well, now my shingles are here, how shall 
I get them back to Cincinnati.?" 

"These boys have a raft here which has no 
load. Perhaps you can strike a bargain with 
them." 

"The very thing. Boys, I'll give you half 
the profits if you'll see them safe to Cincinnati." 

The boys talked a little with Mr. Norton, 
and among themselves, and then told Mr. 
Arlington they would accept his offer. 

" I'll see you in Cincinnati," said he, as he 
left them. 



AMONG THE RAF T S M E N 



8l 




Fall of the Bridge. Page 84. 



AMONG THE EAPTSMEN. 

BY FRANK H. TAYLOR. 

III. —DOWN THE CREEK. 

O AM LAURIE and Clare waited impatient- 
^--^ ly for the waters to subside, and visited 
the rafts each day to see that all was right. 
Meanwhile they hired two oarsmen, that being 
a sufficient, number for running one raft down 
the creek. One of these was the old pilot, 
Brown, who, besides acting as a hand, was to 
pilot the raft. The other was an Irishman, a 
raw fellow, who had never been down the 
river. 

The other rafts were being coupled together, 
two and two, one behind the other, making a 
ten-platform piece. They were fastened to- 
gether with boards put over the grubs from 
one raft to another, in the same way as the 
platforms had been attached to each other. 
In the middle of this raft, known as a " creek 
piece," the shingles and lumber were piled in 
rows, leaving plenty of room on the ends and 
sides for the men to work and exercise. 

" We have an unequal number of rafts," 
said Mr. Norton, one day, "and if 3'ou boys 
wish to go into a heavier trade, you may 
couple it on to yours." 

"We'll do it," said they, " if you'll let us 
6 



have it on the same terms as you did the other 
one." 

•'That will be putting too much money in 
your own pockets, you young schemers," 
laughed he. " I have more shingles, how- 
ever, than I can carry on my rafts handily, 
and if you will take enough of them to make 
your load amount to a hundred thousand, and 
carry them free of charge, you may run the 
raft upon the same terms as the other." 

" All right," said they. 

" It will only require two men for the ten- 
platform piece, as only two oars are needed, 
one at each end." 

The piece was loaded with eighty thousand 
shingles in quarter bunches, and floated down 
to their piece, to which it was coupled. The 
shingles were then arranged near the middle 
of the raft, and the boys made a little house 
out of loose boards upon the top of the pile. 
Here they could lie while the raft floated along, 
and enjoy the ride. 

The tide currents had now begun to set in 
towards the river, and the water was rapidly 
falling. 

" We must get reatiy to start to-night." said 
Mr. Norton, when the water had fallen to full 
banks. " Mother will go with the wagon that 
carries the provisions to Warren, and all will 
be taken on board there." 



82 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



" Why don't they get on here? " asked Sam. 

" Running the creek is too dangerous, and 
we might lose all of our provisions for the trip 
between here and Warren." 

" How long will it take us to go there.'' " 

" If we start to-night, we shall arrive at 
Warren to-morrow night, provided nothing 
happens." 

" What ! do we run at night? " said the boys. 

" O, yes. Rafts usually start at dark, so 
as to gain time, and run the dangers of the 
lower part of the creek by daylight." 

The wagons were loaded with new cables 
and ropes, and drawn to the rafts. The boys 
provided themselves with rubber coats and 
blankets to protect themselves from the night 
air. The hands were collected upon their rafts, 
bustling about, trying the oars, and arranging 
cables, and the pilots were shouting their or- 
ders, and all were making ready for the start. 

A large number of rafts from farther up the 
creek were continually passing while they were 
at work, the men exchanging banterings, bets, 
and jokes with each other, some betting on 
the speed of their rafts, and that they would 
make the quickest trip, and others that their 
rafts would sell for the most. 

"Your raft will run as fast as any of them," 
said Joe Brown, the pilot. 

" How can you tell?" asked the boys. 

" Because it is heavily loaded. The heavi- 
est raft runs the fastest, as it sinks deeper in 
the water, and presents more surface for the 
water to press against." 

" Isn't it about time we were starting? " said 
the boys. 

"Let some of the other rafts go first, and 
we will put our piece in behind Mr. Norton's." 

The rafts now began to pull out, and came 
floating along by them. Mr. Norton was on 
the head one, and called to the boys to cast 
off as he went by. 

" Stand by to throw off the cables ! " shout- 
ed the pilot. 

"Let us boys do it," shouted Laurie ; and 
he leaped upon the bank, followed closely by 
Sam. 

" Stand to your oar, there, Pheelim," said 
the pilot. 

" Here I is," said Pheelim, grasping the 
forward oar. 

" Untie the cable." 

The boys loosened and threw it upon the 
raft, and leaped on after it. 

" Pull to the right," said the pilot to Phee- 
lim, at the same time beginning to pull on the 
stern oar. 

The oar was carried around to the left, with 



the oar-stem close to the raft, then suddenly 
raised to a level with the head. This is 
called "dipping the oar," and it is quite a 
trick to be able to dip it successfully the first 
time. The oarsman walks in the direction the 
raft is being pulled, pushing the oar before 
him. When not in use, the oar is raised from 
the water. 

" Now, then, all together," said the pilot. 

The raft moved slowly from the bank, and 
floated down the stream, the two oarsmen pull- 
ing steadily until it reached the middle of the 
current. The boys climbed upon the shingles, 
and stood looking up and down the river, 
quietly enjoying the prospect. As far as they 
could see, both up and down, the stream 
seemed to be covered with rafts, many of them 
being side by side, and some three abreast, 
where they were running by each other. It 
was beginning to get dark, and a few of the 
rafts were making preparations to " lie up " 
for the night. 

"There'll be a scattering among these be- 
fore morning," said the pilot. " Our rafts will 
keep ahead, because they are heavier loaded 
than those up the creek ; but we've got to look 
out for them ahead of us." 

The boys sat down in their " shanty," as 
Pheelim called it, and watched the old pilot 
steer the raft. They could hear the barn-yard 
sounds as they passed along by the houses on 
the bank, the shouts of the pilots up and down 
the stream, the sounds of the men ringing out 
upon the air, and echoed back from the shore, 
and the muskrats plunging into the water as 
they passed along. The rafts began to sepa- 
rate, and run farther apart, until the boys 
could see none of the others; but they could 
tell by their shouts in which direction they 
were. 

" What is that?" said Clare, as they heard 
several sounds coming from down the creek, 
sounding as if somebody had struck upon 
loose wood. 

" I don't know. There's another," said Sam, 
as the sound was repeated up the creek. 

"I'll ask the pilot," said Laurie. 

He went forward to ask him, when he saw 
him strike several blows upon his oar-stem, 
and then shouted, — 

"Pull to the left!" 

" What did you pound on the oar-stem for ? " 
asked Laurie. 

" To find out how to steer," said the pilot. 

"Well, that's queer!" said Clare. "How 
did you do it by the blows?" 

" I told it by the echo. Just listen, now." 

He struck several blows, and in a few mo- 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



S3 



ments the echoes could be heard upon the 
shore. 

" Which echo did you hear first?" 

"The one from the right bank," said the 
boys. 

"That shows we are nearer that bank than 
the other. Pull to the left, Pheelim ! " 

He then struck another blow, the echoes 
coming back almost at the same time. 

" Now we are about in the middle." 

" I've got some lanterns on board. Shall 
we light them.'"' said Clare. 

"Yes; we'll pass under a bridge pretty 
quick, and it will help us a little to have them 
on the forward end." 

The boys placed the lanterns at the two for- 
ward corners, and sat down beside them. 
They did not throw the light but a little 
way, but they served as a warning to rafts 
that might be in their course. 

" These are like the head-lights to an en- 
gine," said Sam. " I wish I had a horn to 
blow, and we'd make believe 'twas a train of 
cars." 

" We mustn't go to playing such little 
things," said Laurie. " Remember we're 
owners of this raft, and not little boys." 

" Well, we can play we're little boys. I've 
seen old people play as if they were little 
boys," said Clare. 

"Pull to the right! Keep off! We're 
aground!" some one shouted out of the 
darkness below them. 

"There's some one aground below us!" 
shouted Laurie. 

" Keep a watch for them, and let me know 
their position," said the pilot. 

" Be careful, and don't smash us, Mr. Pilot," 
said Pheelim. " Remember I'm ahead, and 
in the principal part of danger." 

"Pshaw! We won't smash. 'Tend to your 
business." 

" They're on the left bank," said Laurie. 

"They're on the bar," said the pilot. "I 
know the way now. Pull to the right, Phee- 
lim." 

The forward end of the raft swung out fi'om 
the left bank, and they glided within a few 
feet of the raft aground. 

" Help us off! " shouted the pilot, from the 
raft. 

" All right. Throw us a cable. Here, boys, 
come and help." 

The boys ran to the side of the raft, and 
caught the cable which was thrown on board. 
They then fastened it to the raft, so as to give 
considerable slack. 

" Now, pull to the right hand, Pheelim," 



said the pilot. "Take care that the cable 
don't slip off, boys, and we'll drag them clear 
from the bank." 

The pilot upon the other raft now ordered 
his men to pull. The cable straightened out, 
and the raft began to slip, and finally swung 
around into the current. The boys cast off 
the cable, which was drawn in by the others, 
who sent after them a " much obleeged." 

" How do you suppose they got stuck there?" 
asked Laurie. 

" Because their pilot did not understand the 
drift of the current, I presume. It runs pret- 
ty rapid towards the bar, and then turns off 
short; and a raft following the course of the 
current will run the forward end upon the bar, 
just as it is turning, and then swing around 
broadside upon it. But I guess we must be 
getting near the bridge." He struck upon the 
oar, and the echoes came back from the banks 
nearly together, and in a few seconds another 
echo was heard below. 

"That's the bridge," said the pilot. "Go 
forward and watch for it. We want to steer 
for the middle arch. The current will carry 
us towards the right pier. Let us run within 
two or three rods of it, and then give orders 
to pull to the left. You give the orders, 
Laurie." 

" All right," said Laurie, going forward, with 
a smile of satisfaction at the trust reposed in 
him. He could see the dark mass of the bridge 
below them stretching across the stream. It 
was impossible for him to distinguish the piers, 
however, until they were quite close. He then 
saw that they were headed directly for the 
right pier, and that if they went on in the 
same way the raft would be struck by it almost 
in the centre. He excitedly yelled, — 

" Pull to the left! Pull to the left! We're 
right on it." 

The pilot saw they were running too close, 
and shouted to Pheelim to throw it up to the 
left. They pulled hard, but the current car- 
ried them swiftly down, and directly towards 
the pier. 

" Pull, pull ! " shouted Laurie. " We'll hit 
it, any way." 

The pilot ran to the forward oar to help 
Pheelim, sending the hoys to his oar, with di- 
rections to pull to the left. This double force 
upon the forward oar had the effect to swing 
the raft around faster; but they had run too 
close to clear it. A brace ran down into the 
water from the arch, and presented an inclined 
plane to all rafts coming down the creek. The 
corner of the raft struck this with a force 
which almost threw the boys from their feet, 



84 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN, 



and shook the bridge until the timbers rattled. 
But it slid up the brace until it had swung 
around far enough to drop off, and then shot 
swiftly under the bridge, grazing the piers as it 
went. 

•'That shave was too close for comfort," 
said the pilot. 

" That's what Pat Finnegan said when the 
barber almost shaved his nose off," observed 
Pat, who had been too scared for action. 

" It made me think of my share of the 
profits," said Sam. " Did you ever stave on a 
bridge.'" he asked the pilot. 

"Only once," he replied. "The bridge 
was just below a rapid, and it was a bad 
place to steer. There were two of us on the 
raft, besides a dog, and I was pulling the for- 
ward oar. The piers of the bridge were simply 
wooden posts, with no braces in them, as this 
bridge has. Our raftwas heavily loaded, and it 
went through the rapids like a race-horse. The 
fellow behind became a little excited, and 
pulled the wrong way; and we struck one of 
the piers kind o' cornerwise, and knocked it 
out quicker'n a flash. I saw it falling, and 
made a rush for the other end. The raft went 
through, and struck the next pier, and then in 
a moment the bridge fell right across the raft, 
cracking the boards and smashing the forward 
end all to pieces. We jumped into the water, 
and swam ashore, leaving the raft to care for 
itself." 

"What became of the dog.'" asked one of 
the boys. 

" He was caught under the bridge and killed 
on nearly the same spot where I stood ; we 
found him there when we cleared off the raft." 

" How did you run the raft after it was 
smashed?" asked the boys. 

" We had to raft it over again ; you'll see 
plenty of such work before you reach Cin- 
cinnati." 

The boys now lay down under their shanty, 
and covering themselves with their overcoats, 
slept soundly until near morning, when they 
were awakened by the pilot. 

"We're in a pretty muss now," said he; 
" shake yourselves, and come out here." 

The boys were a little stiff after sleeping on 
the hard boards, but they quickly roused up, 
and gave themselves a shaking, which was all 
their dressing. 

It was nearly an hour before daylight, and 
pitchy dark. Their lanterns had been lost when 
they struck the bridge, and they had no mate- 
rials for making a light. 

" What makes the raft act so queer.'" said 
Sam. 



'• Why, I believe it's whirling around," said 
Clare. 

" It actually is," said Laurie. 

"What's the matter. Brown.'" No one 
says Mr. on the river. " We're in the Duck 
Pond," said he. 

"The Duck Pond.'" queried Laurie. 
"What's that.'" 

" It's a big eddy; just here, where the creek 
is wider than anywhere else. I'd ought to 
have known better than to get into it ; but there 
has been a boom across it to keep rafts out for 
a long time, but it was carried away a short 
time ago by a freshet, and I had forgotten it. 
I never thought a thing 'bout it till we were in 
too far to get out." 




"That's what Pat Finnegan said when the barber almost 
shaved his nose off."- 

" How large is it.' " asked the boys. 

" We go around a circle of about ten rods. 
You can see the tops of the hills where they 
come against the skv, and tell when we make 
a circle." 

The hoys sat down and watched the peaks 
as they came against the horizon. 

" There's one we saw before," said Clare. 
"Where is that peak. Brown.'" 

"It is one of the Alleghenies, and is almost 
in the direction we wish to go." 

" Well, this is getting monotonous," said 
Sam. "Can't you pull out.'" 

"No; the current is too strong. We might 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



85 



pull all day, and not get beyond the cur- 
rent." 

" How will we get out, then.'' " asked he. 

" Throw a rope to some of the passing rafts, 
and let them pull us out. Some rafts stay in 
here all day, before'another comes along to 
help them out. A couple of drunken men 
were caught in here once with a skiff. They 
rowed around here the whole night, supposing 
all the while they were going farther down 
the creek. A house stood on the bank then, 
and there was a dance in it. that night; and 
the men said, when they were found the next 
morning, that it was the greatest place for 
dancing on this creek they ever saw, for they 
had rowed all night, and there had been dan- 
cing in every house they passed." 




'We're in a pretty muss now ; shake yourselves, and come 
out here." 

" How far from the eddy is the main stream.?" 
asked Laurie. 

" About a rope's throw, from where the 
rafts run." 

" How long before there'll be a raft hy?" 

"It can't be a great while, for none have 
passed since we have been in here, and we 
passed some just before we went under the 
bridge. You boys can watch while I take a nap." 

The pilot la}' down on the raft, under some 
boards, with nothing but a coat around him, 
and was soon mingling his snores with those 
of Pheelim, who had been asleep some time. 



"Now, boys," said Laurie, "there's no use 
in waking the pilot up when a raft comes along. 
We have been watching things pretty close, 
and I believe we can manage the raft." 

" I don't believe we can pull the oars," said 
Sam. 

" Yes, we can ; don't you know Brown sent 
us to the back oar to pull when we went under 
the bridge.' " 

" But suppose we get the raft stuck on some 
place or stone.?" said Clare. 

" Well, It's our own lumber, and it will be 
our own loss." 

" Yes ; but I don't like the idea of losing our 
lumber. Just think of the money we'll have 
to take home, if we go through all right," said 
Clare. 

"Well, we can try it," said Sam; "and if 
we see anything going wrong, we'll wake up 
Brown." 

It was now nearly daylight, and the boys 
could distinguish objects on the shore. They 
saw that the eddy was a large pond, looking 
as if cut out of the side of the creek by the 
force of the water, and forming a large circle, 
which at times carried the raft so near the bank 
that they could almost leap to land. A farm- 
house stood not far from the bank, and they 
could hear the farm boys in the cow-yard, and 
the occfipants stirring about the house. 

" I wish I could get some milk to drink," 
said Clare, " for I begin to feel hungry." 

"Why not jump off, and buy something at 
that farm-house.''" said Laurie. 

" I believe I could leap ashore if you boys 
would pull the raft around a little, where it 
comes so near that point," said Clare. 

"Try it," said Laurie. "You can get us 
some cakes and cheese, and we can make a 
good breakfast; but you had better hurry 
before a raft comes along." 

Sam and Laurie pulled the forward end of 
the raft as near the shore as possible, and Clare, 
taking a little run, sprang upon the land. 
"All right! " said he. "I'll be back in a few 
moments." 

He found the farmer's wife busily engaged 
in getting breakfast. Everything looked neat 
and home-like about the house, and the woman 
showed signs of education and refinement. 
He told her his errand, and she generously 
loaded him with cakes, and cut a huge piece 
of cheese from a large one which lay on a 
table. She refused the pay which Clare of- 
fered her, and gave him a glass of the new 
milk which the farm boys brought in. 

He hastened to the raft, and showed the 
boys his load. 



86 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



"She refused all pay," said Clare, "and 
said we were welcome." 

" Well, that was a generous act," said Sam, 
" and I think I am able to appreciate it," tak- 
ing a large bite of the cakes. 

The boys enjoyed their lunch, and had just 
finished it as a raft came in sight around a 
bend, followed by several others. They fixed 
the cable to be thrown. 

" Give us a lift.''" said Laurie, as the first 
raft came opposite. 

"Yes; throw your cable." 

Laurie threw the cable as far as he could, 
but it fell short. 

" You'll have to wait for the next raft," 
shouted the raftsmen. 

Laurie drew the cable in, and again made 
ready for a throw. The next raft came oppo- 
site just as he was on the outmost circle, and 
there was but a short distance intervening, 
but by an unlucky kink in the rope, it fell 
short again. 

Laurte began to think he had made a mis- 
take in not calling the pilot ; but he determined 
to try it once more. 

" Here's a smaller rope," said Sam, " per- 
haps you can do something with it." 

" I could if I had a block," said Laurie. 

" How will this do.?" said Clare, picking up 
a piece of a grub, that had been left T)n the 
raft. 

"That's what I want." 

He tied the end of the small rope to the 
block, and the other end to the cable. Another 
raft had now come opposite them, and Laurie 
picked up the small rope, and swung the block 
around in a circle, as boys do when they throw 
stones with a sling. Then, letting go with a 
hard swing, he sent the block upon the other 
raft. By means of the small rope the cable was 
drawn to the raft, and fastened, and then the 
boys began to pull, Laurie taking the forward 
oar, and the others the rear one. 

"Do you boys run that raft!" asked the 
men. 

"Yes; we own it," said Laurie. 

"We've heard of you. You pulled us off 
from the bar last night, and so we return the 
compliment. Where's your pilot.?" 

"He's asleep, and we're going to run the 
raft until he wakes up." 

" You better be careful, or you'll run it into 
the ground." 

"O, we can follow you ; and the pilot said • 
it was good running below here." 

The raft had now reached the main current, 
and the cable was cast off and drawn in. 

"Now, boys," said Laurie, "I'll be pilot, 



and you must obey me, every word, or we 
may get aground." 

The boys soon found that their raft ran 
faster than the other, and that they were 
gaining on them. 

" What will you do if this raft runs into the 
other.-"' asked Clare. 

"I don't know," said Laurie, looking puz- 
zled, as he saw the distance between the two 
rafts swiftly diminishing. 

Just below them was a sharp bend in the 
creek, and as the forward raft turned this, the 
boys, running their raft too near the shore, 
struck against the corner of it with a force 
which nearly started the boards, and awoke 
the two sleepers. 



|f ;! J x^^^^^:^^^^|^5^:^.\^^<^l\^ 




Clare and the Farmer's Wife. 

" Where are we?" said the pilot, as he saw 
the raft was not in the Duck Pond, where 
he went to sleep. 

" Going on our own hook," said Laurie, a, 
little crest-fallen. 

" Pull off there! " shouted the pilot of the 
forward raft. "You are pushing us against 
the bank." 

The boys' raft, striking the corner of the 
other, was pushing it across the creek in spite 
of the efforts of the m^en, and there was dan- 
ger of staving on the shore. 

"Take the forward oar, Pheelim," said the 
pilot, seeing the difficulty at a glance. "Throw 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



87 



it up to the right ; " at the same time he pulled 
the stern oar to the left. 

The other raft had now been pushed so near 
the opposite bank, that there was room for the 
boys' raft to run by. The pilot took advantage 
of this opportunity, and steering to the right 
through this opening, soon left the other 
raft behind. 

"That was a bad fix," said the pilot. " How 
did you come down here, and in it.'' " 

The boys told him their adventures, and 
how they got out of the Duck Pond. 

"Well, that was- a pretty ingenious way, 
and you might have got out of this all right; 
but it was lucky I awoke, for there is a dam 
just below here to run, and you would never 
have got through it without staving." 




'■•Faith, that was the greatest kick I ever had." 

" What kind of a thing is it? " asked Clare. 

" Why, it is a dam built across the creek to 
run a saw-mill. There are not so many here 
now, since they use steam, but they have them 
by all the villages. Here it is, and plenty on 
it, to see us go through." 

The dam looked like a bridge without any 
railing from where the boys were, except that 
it was boarded up at each end for five or six 
feet above the water, and nearly across the 
stream, the only opening being in the middle, 
through which the rafts ran. Through this 
opening the water poured with a loud noise. 
There was no fall, however, the bottom of the 



dam being made by laying plank so as to form 
a long chute, and large timbers were placed 
for the sides, the whole looking not unlike the 
chutes, made by boys for their water-wheels. 
The force of the water, pouring through the 
chute forms a bar below the dam, on which 
the rafts are often stove or stuck. 

The dam was crowded with the village boys 
to see them run it, and there were a number 
of persons on the bank. The boys became 
greatly excited as they neared the dam, and 
were still more so when they saw the water 
foaming through the chute. The pilot steered 
directly for the opening, the raft running 
swifter and swifter as it approached it. 

" Now, take care of your oar, Pheelim," said 
the pilot, and " don't let it be caught in the 
swirls, when the raft plunges below." 

The swirls are eddies formed by the raft, as 
it plunges into the water at the bottom of a 
chute, and which will sometimes break oars 
when caught in them. 

The raft slightly dipped as it went through 
the opening, and then, as it shot down the 
chute and dipped its forward end deep in the 
water below, it seemed to be covered with 
foam. The water fiew high above their heads, 
and fell in thick spray upon the raft, almost 
wetting them through. The boys upon the 
dam yelled and hurrahed, and the people 
shook their handkerchiefs and cheered. 

But Pheelim, forgetting the advice of the 
pilot, or confused by the flying water, let his 
oar drop into the swirls; and so quickly was it 
flung around, that he was thrown into the 
water. The boys ran to the edge of the raft, 
and, as he rose, grasped his hands and helped 
him upon the raft. 

" Faith, that was the greatest kick I ever 
had," said he, blowing the water from his 
mouth and nose. " That oar laped like a hoss, 
and the next moment kicked, and I warn't 
where I was at all, but just somewhere else." 
The pilot and the boys laughed heartily at 
the ludircous figure he made, in spite of the 
danger he had been in. 

They had passed the bar all right, and in a 
little while they reached Pine grove, where 
they found Mr. Norton with the rafts. Here 
they tied up, and went on shore to find a pilot 
to take them through the rapids. 



8S 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 




It is too late now," cried the Pilot. Page 92. 



AMONG THE EAPTSMEN. 

FBY FRANK H. TAYLOR. 

IV. — RUNNING THE KAPIDS. 

'T^HE bank where the rafts were tied was 
-'- covered with raftsmen when the boys 
landed. The pilots and owners of the rafts 
stood by themselves, talking of the market and 
lumber, while the younger raftsmen formed a 
group by themselves, where they were testing 
the superiority of each other's muscle in box- 
ing and wrestling. Most of these latter were 
young men of about eighteen or twenty, living 
in neighboring towns on the head-waters of 
the creek. They had often met in these sports, 
at elections and town meetings, before, and 
now wished to gain more honors, or retrieve 
lost ones, over their old rivals. 

The boys strolled up to the group of young 
men to see the sport. A ring was formed by 
the spectators, and in this the actors were 
struggling. The " best men " from two rival 
villages were matched against each other in a 
wrestle, which is the favorite sport of boys or 
men on the river. The excitement is intense 
as the wrestle proceeds, and now one and then 
the other seems to have the advantage; and 
when at last one gains the victory, he is cheered 
lustily by both friend and rival. But he must 



hold his position as victor of the ring by 
wrestles with the best man from each village 
represented among the rafts. The man who 
is victor in the last contest is termed " bully," 
his prowess is reported to the other rafts, and 
at each place of landing he will be called on 
in a wrestle. 

The boys watched the sport until the pilot 
called to them, and said they must have a pilot 
to run the rapids. 

" Can't you run it .'"' asked Laurie. 

"No; I have not been through them for 
some time; and it is best not to risk it," said 
the pilot. 

"Where can we find a pilot.''" asked Laurie. 

" Come with me, and I will show you," said 
the pilot. 

They walked down to the creek, and the pi- 
lot led them towards a group of men stand- 
ing there. 

" Get one of those," said he, " and we will 
start pretty soon, as we have rested long 
enough." 

" I'll attend to it," said Laurie, who had done 
most of the business since they started. 

As Laurie neared them he was struck by their 
strange appearance. They were dressed in 
poorer clothes than raftsmen usually wear; 
they wore moccasons, and there was a crin- 
ging appearance about them which Laurie did 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



89 



not like. But what seemed to him the most 
singular was their color. It was not black 
enough for negroes, and, besides, their hair 
was long and straight. 

"Indians," thought Laurie, as he came 
nearer. 

And in spite of his manliness he was a little 
afraid of them as he remembered the stories 
he had read of " the cruel red man." 

He stepped up to one whom he thought the 
best looking, and asked him if he was a pilot. 

" Ugh, me pilot," said the Indian, in broken 
English. 

" What's jour price?" 

"You give me, how much.?" 

" One dollar." 



li^i )m- 




Wrestling among the Raftsmen. 

" No enough. Me take two." 

" No, you won't. I can't give you but one," 
said Laurie, who knew the price usually paid. 

"No; me take one and half," said the In- 
dian. 

" I'll find some one else, I guess," said Lau- 
rie, turning away. 

"Me take it," said the Indian, following him. 

"Come on, then." said Laurie, leading the 
way to the raft, where the pilot and boys were. 

"Did you ever run the rapids. ''" asked the 
pilot of the Indian. 

"Yes; I run him much," responded the In- 
dian. 

" What's your name ? " 



"John Halfmoon." 

" He's all right, boys; I've heard of him," 
said the pilot. 

"Where do these Indians live.?" asked 
Laurie. 

"At their reservation on the Alleghany. 
They have some land set off for them by the 
government, where they live under their own 
laws and chiefs. Most of them have good 
houses, and are quite wealthy. They are the 
best pilots we have on the river, knowing every 
turn and rock; and they have a native-born 
coolness in danger." 

Pheelim soon came down to the raft; they 
then cast off, and began pulling into the 
stream. A number of other rafts were also 
pulling out at the same time, and the stream 
seemed to be covered with lumber. Some of 
the rafts coming from up the stream, having pi- 
lots on board who could run the rapids, did not 
tie up, but attempted to run by those which were 
tying up or pulling out. One of these, which 
contained four pieces, and was heavily loaded, 
struck against a light one, which was at that 
moment pulling out, crushing in the boards 
of the lighter one as if they were sticks, and 
crowding it down upon the rafts below it. The 
next raft was the one belonging to the boys, 
which was also pulling out, and below this 
was one tied to the shore. The two rafts were 
but a few rods above them, and bearing down 
swiftly. 

" There'll be a stave here, if we're not care- 
ful," said the pilot, as he saw the rafts bear 
down upon them; "and unless we get clear 
of this one below, it will be all day with us." 

" Pull, pull ! " said the Indian ; " maybe me 
get clear." 

" We can't do it," said the pilot, as he saw 
the rafts were bearing down too swiftly for 
their escape. 

He turned to the raft below him. There was 
but ten feet of water between the two rafts, 
and those above them were already within 
that distance. He saw that if their raft was 
caught between them, it would be crushed like 
a cockle shell. 

"We're in for it, boys," said he. "Now, 
^take care of yourselves. The moment the 
rafts touch, spring upon the one tied to the 
shore, and run for the bank." 

" Me save it," said the Indian, picking up an 
axe. " You pull, pull like everything, and me 
all right." 

As he said this, he sprang over the inter- 
vening space, upon the raft which was tied to 
the shore, and ran across it to where tiie cable 
was fastened. This he severed with one quick 



90 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



blow of the hatchet, and darted back to the 
raft. The pilot saw the Indian's plan, and 
telling Pheelim to pull his best, exerted all his 
strength upon the oar. Being thus loosened 
from the bank, the lower raft swung down with 
the current, and just in time, for the rafts 
above were already within a few feet, and 
there was still danger of a collision. This was 
prevented, however, by the Indian, who grasped 
a long pole as he sprang upon the raft, and 
placing it against those above, began push- 
ing. This example was followed by the boys, 
and by their united efforts the raft was soon 
clear. 

But below them the creek was still filled for 
nearly a mile with rafts, and there was con- 
stant danger of a collision as they passed 
along. The Indian pilot, however, was perfect- 
ly cool, and had not seemed excited even when 
danger appeared most imminent. He gave 
his orders in a single word, or with a gesture; 
and the boys, who had become somewhat 
excited during the above scene, were quite 
cool as they watched him. Several times they 
bumped against other rafts, and once struck 
so hard as to start the boards, and rouse the 
boys' fears. 

" I'm glad that's through with," said Sam, 
as they passed the last raft. " A fellow didn't 
know whether he was rich or not while run- 
ning through there." 

"But here comes something worse yet," said 
the pilot. 

"What's that.?" 

"The rapids. Don't you see how much 
swifter the water runs ; and you can see down 
below there that it is full of bars and rocks." 

" How far is it like that.? " 

" All the way to Warren, about eight miles, 
and we can run it in an hour." 

"Why, that's almost a mile in seven min- 
utes," said Laurie. 

" Yes ; and as we are the first over this sea- 
son, we must be more than usually careful." 

The water was clear of rafts below them, as 
they were the first to pull out, and just behind 
them came Mr. Norton's rafts. The water was 
quite high, as it must be to clear the bars, 
rocks, and islands, of which the river seemed 
to be full. Every few rods the raft would be 
pulled to the right or left, and they would 
glide by some bar of sand, or a rock which 
almost reached to the surface. The men were 
kept pulling all of the time, and the boys now 
and then lent a helping hand at one of the 
oars. Besides these rocks and bars, the sur- 
face of the water was covered with lumber, 
creek rubbish, and floating trees. In places 



islands were covered with water, and the trees 
growing upon them looked as if standing in 
the middle of the river. 

" These are hard places to run," said the 
pilot, as they passed one of the islands, where 
the boys could see the bank within a few feet 
of the raft. "The water very often moves 
parts of the land, with the trees, into the chan- 
nel where we usually run, and we must find 
new channels." 

" There's one ahead that looks as if it was 
across the creek," said Laurie, pointing to a 
tree standing almost in their course. 

" It does look like it," said the pilot. " I'll 
ask the Indian. — Isn't that a change in the 
current, John ? " 




" No enough. Me take two. 



"Looks SO," said the Indian. "We run it 
down." 

"What's he going to do.?" asked Sam. 

" He thinks he can run against it and knock 
it down," said the pilot. " The roots are 
probably loosened by the water, and at the 
rate we are going we can run it under. There 
are bars on each side, so we can't turn out." 

The tree was a small one, not more than a 
foot through, but was thickly branched. It 
was submerged for three or four feet, and 
leaned slightly down the stream. The Indian 
stood on the forward end, and coolly gave his 
orders, running straight to the tree. The raft 
struck it with great force, toppling it over, and 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



91 



bearing it down under the waters. The boys 
could hear the branches scraping and scratch- 
ing on the bottom of the raft, as it went un- 
der, and then it rolled up behind, completely 
loosened from the earth. 

Mr. Norton was piloting the raft behind 
them, and as he saw the tree rise up within a 
few feet of him, he attempted to pass by pull- 
ing to one side. The tree caught upon a sand- 
bar, and was rolled up by the force of the wa- 
ters until the branches and greater part of the 
trunk were out of water, while the roots were 
still submerged. In the attempt to pull the 
raft aside, it swung around, and caught 
broadside upon the tree near its middle. 




"Me save it." 

and the next moment it broke apart where 
the pieces were coupled together, throw- 
ing the lumber and shingles into the creek. 
One of the pieces thus broken apart floated 
down in the direct channel, while the other 
stuck on the bar. Mr. Norton was upon the 
floating piece, and began to catch the lumber 
which had been thrown into the water, while 
those upon the bar commenced unrafting, 
throwing the boards into the creek, to be 
floated down until they could be drawn ashore 
and rafted again. 

"What will father do with his raft?" asked 
Sam. 

" Run it to Warren, and wait until the other 
piece is rafted. He can run it down with 



one oar, and a board for a rudder," said the 
pilot. 

They were now nearly through the rapids, 
and the boys were congratulating themselves 
upon the security of their raft. They were 
sittingupon the shingles talking of their plans, 
when the raft struck a bar with a shock that 
sent them, shingles and all, rolling upon the 
raft. 

"What's up?" said Laurie, springing to his 
feet. 

"Stuck on a bar, I guess," said the pilot. 

"The raft has stopped entirely," said Sam, 
"and those other rafts will be running into us." 

" Maybe we can get it off before they get 
here," said the pilot. " If it isn't on too hard 
we can pry it off." 

" This new one, never here before; but we 
get off," said the Indian, as he commenced 
pulling off his moccasons. 

" Off with your boots, Pheelim. — And you^ 
boys, can help us," said the pilot. 

The boys undressed their feet, rolled up their 
trousers, and picked up some of the hand- 
spikes that had been put on board. The wa- 
ter was not over two feet deep here ; and the 
boys were soon beside the men in the water. 

" Suppose you couldn't pry the raft oftV said 
Sam; "what would you do then? " 

"Unraft it, or, perhaps, only take the shin- 
gles off, and make it lighter." 

" But some of the rafts would run into us by 
that time," said Clare. 

" And maybe that would shove us off," said 
the pilot. " But if the raft goes off in a hurry, 
you boys must spring for it, or you may be 
left on the bar." 

The raft had run on to the bar some dis- 
tance, and they found it hard to move it; be- 
sides, the sand was too soft to make a good 
fulcrum. * 

"This will never do," said the pilot, after 
they had worked some time. " We must try 
some other means." 

"Why can't we shovel the sand away ?" said 
Laurie. " We might use pieces of boards as 
' shovels." 

"Just the thing," said the pilot. 

They provided themselves with pieces of 
boards, and using them as shovels, they soon 
cleared away a large space beneath the raft. 

" Now use the boards for levers," said the 
pilot. " Now, all ready. Yo, heave ! and off 
she goes ! " 

The last lift started it, and it floated otY, all 
springing upon the raft but Sam. He had been 
too slow, and before he could gather himself, 
the raft was too far for a leap. 



93 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN, 



"That's an unceremonious leave-taking." 
said Sam, as the i-aft floated away. '• Halloo! 
ain't jou going to take me on board?" 

"It's too late now," shouted the pilot. 
" Your father's raft will take jou ofl:" in two 
minutes." 

" But I shall drown ! " shouted Sam. 

" Can't we get him.?" asked Clare and Lau- 
rie, who began to be afraid he might be 
drowned, although they had laughed when 
they first saw him left on the bar. 

"The water isn't deep enough to drown him," 
said the pilot. "And you see his father's raft 
is already in sight, and will reach him before 
we can. — Stand where you are, and you're all 
right," he shouted to Sam. 

"Well, I've heard of shipwrecked sailors on 
islands before now, but I don't believe the 
island was under water. But the water is 
growing cold, and there is no earthly place to 
repose here," said Sam, as he retreated to the 
highest point of the bar, which was only two 
or three inches under water. 

Mr. Norton's single piece was now close to 
the bar, and Sam waded out as far as he could 
to reach it. 

"What does this mean? How came you 
here?" asked Mr. Norton, as he pulled Sam 
upon the raft. 

" Circumstances over which I had no con- 
trol," said Sam, laughing at the thought of 
his adventure. 

He then told Mr. Norton of their accident, 
and how he happened to be left. 

" Well, your clothes are noi wet; so I guess 
you won't catch cold ; but you had better wrap 
yourself up," said his father. 

Sam wrapped himself in his father's great- 
coat, and sitting down upon the raft, soon felt 
as well as ever. 

The boys' raft reached Warren without any 
more accidents, and Sam found th^m on the 
raft waiting for him. Mr. Norton immediately 
began coupling his rafts together, and making 
everything ready to start on the morrow. The 
rafts were built three pieces wide and twentv- 
one long, with three bars at each end. Near 
the centre of these rafts their house, or shanty, 
was built, consisting of a single room, and 
with wooden bunks on the sides, filled with 
straw, for sleeping-places. The shanties upon 
those rafts where there were ladies were divid- 
ed into two apartments. 

The boys made arrangements to couple their 
raft with some of Mr. Norton's; their own 
pilot was to run it, and Mr. Norton was to 
furnish the men for the whole raft. The boys 
were to run it as their own until there was a 



chance for a sale. Their raft was soon coupled, 
a shanty built, and everything ready for a start. 
A large number of rafts had novv come in, 
and they reported nearly a dozen rafts stove 
on the rapids. This statement was soon veri- 
fied by the lumber which came floating down 
the creek. 




" What's up ?" 

The men were busy all that day catching 
their timber and rafting their broken rafts. 
The boys worked with the men, assisting any 
who needed help, and doing good service in 
catching lumber. They became well known 
among the raftsmen as the boy lumberers. 
They took their honors, however, quite coolly, 
although they talked it over at night before 
they went to sleep, and told each other what 
they had heard the men say of them through 
the day. 




AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



93 




Laurie and Miss Coaxes in the Water. 



AMONG THE EAFTSMEN. 

BY FRANK H. TAYLOR. 

v.— OJSr THE KIVEB. 

''T^HE boys were awakened the next morn- 
■*- ing bj the pilot knocking at their door- 

" Get up, boys. We're all ready to start 
now," said he. "Be lively about it." 

They hastily dressed, and went down stairs, 
•where they found the pilot awaiting them. 

"What's the hurry this morning.'" asked 
Laurie. 

" We want to pull out before any of the oth- 
er rafts start," said the pilot; "then we shall 
have the way clear before us." 

They found a boat waiting for them by the 
bank, and a boatman, which the pilot had 
hired. The bank of the Alleghany was lined 
for miles with rafts, that had been coming in 
all night, both from the creek and river. Upon 
each of these a shanty had been built, and in 
most of them a fire was burning, the whole 
scene looking like a village on the water. 

"Why, how many rafts are there here.?" 
asked Clare, after they had rowed some time. 

" I guess they'd cover nigh ten or twelve 
acres," said the pilot, and that's the reason we 
want to start early, to get clear of the jam." 



" What if some one else should try to be as 
sharp as you.? " said Laurie. 

" I wouldn't say anything agin it; but I'd 
do my best to beat 'em," said the pilot. 

" Yon's one looks as if 'twere goin' out," 
said the boatman. 

"Jerusalem ! it is ! " said the pilot. " Hus- 
tle up. Here, let me help." 

The pilot took one of the oars, and bending 
to their task, the two men sent the boat flying 
through the water. 

" Here's another sharp one.'" said the pilot, 
as they passed a raft where the men were un- 
tying, and getting ready to start. "There's 
more sharp ones than usual this spring; but 
we'll beat them all yet." 

" But Where's our raft.'" asked Laurie, as 
they passed the place where it had been left. 

" We dropped it down below here last night 
after dark," said the pilot, " so as to keep it 
clear of the others." 

They found the hands on their raft all ready 
to start, and only awaiting their arrival to 
sho\-e oft". 

"Now be lively, boys," said the pilot. 
" There are several rafts up above us that are 
pulling out, and each thinks he is first, and 
that the others are fiist asleep." 

" We're all ready," said one of the hands. 



94 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



The cables were cast off, and the raft once 
more began to move. This one was the low- 
est, and the boatmen had no trouble in steer- 
ing clear of the shore, and were soon in the 
middle of the current. 

" There come the others," said Sam, as thev 
swung out, and could see the fires on the rafts 
up the river. 

" Half of them will be pulling out before 
dajlight," said the pilot, " so as to be first, and 
have it to brag of." 

" How can you tell the way to steer here.''" 
asked Laurie. 

" I tell by the echoes partly; but we usually 
run by watching the mountain-tops. We can 
guess our position by them." 

The boys soon went into the shanty, and ly- 
ing down upon the bundles of straw, they slept 
until daylight. Then one of the hands came 
in, and began to prepare breakfast. They had 
none of the culinarj' articles which are necessa- 
ry to a good kitchen. There were a frying-pan, 
a kettle, a coffee-pot, and a tea-pot, for cooking, 
with tin plates and cups. 

"When I first went down the river, we 
didn't have any dishes to eat from," said the 
cook, who was known by the nickname of 
Brad among the raftsmen, " and only one ket- 
tle to do our cooking. We would take a shin- 
gle for a plate, and our jackknives for forks 
or table-knives. But we had splendid times." 

" I should think this would be dry living 
by the time we reach Cincinnati," said Laurie. 

" You'll be hankering after something else, 
I guess, before we're through with it," said 
Brad. •' But we'll make it a little better by a 
lark." 

"A lark — what's that.''" asked Sara. "Do 
you have larks on the river.? " 

" A lark is when we take a little walk on 
shore, to rest ourselves, and pick up any stray 
chickens or turkej's that we find wandering 
around, for fear they may lose their way, and 
wander off and die." 

" I should think that was pretty near steal- 
ing," said Clare. 

" We don't call it so. It is only our mark 
of respect for the inhabitants. Why, you see, 
they cheat us if we buy anything of them, and 
we take their fowls to pay for it." 

" But don't the_y ever make a fuss.'" asked 
Laurie. 

"What's the use.'' They know that they 
have cheated us, and they expect we will try 
to be even with them. One fellow brought 
some eggs on board to sell one day, as we were 
tied up near his place. We bought them ; there 
was nigh about twenty dozen; but when we 



come to cook them, there wasn't a dozen good 
eggs in the whole lot. We pulled out that 
night, and took about half of his hen-roost with 
us. — Breakfast's ready. Get your cups and 
plates, and take hold and help yourselves." 

The men now came in to their breakfast, 
with the exception of two or three who steered 
the raft. Each took his plate of victuals and 
cup of coffee or tea, and ate his breakfast 
wherever he found it most convenient. The 
boys enjoyed this novel way of eating, and did 
not grumble about their victuals, although 
they were not cooked in the best stj'le, and the 
coftee was decidedly unsettled. 




The hired Boatman. 

For miles below Warren the river ran be- 
tween high mountains, covered with woods 
and bushes. There was not inLich of interest 
in these, save once when the boys saw two deer 
running around a spur of a hill. Finally, oil 
derricks began to appear upon the bank of 
the river, where old oil wells had been drilled, 
which were now dry. Then Tidioute, Math 
its many derricks and oil tanks, burst upon 
their view. 

" It's a dirty-looking hole," said Clare, as 
they passed the village. 

" It looks as if it had been drownded in oil 
some day, and then repeopled," said Sam. 

" That is the general look of the oil regions," 
said the pilot. 

At dark they made preparations for tying up. 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN, 



95 



One end of the cable was made fast to the raft, 
and the other put into a boat and rowed ashore. 
A man then took the cable, and ran along the 
shore until became to a convenient tree, around 
which he gave the cable two or three turns, 
and then held to the end of it. When the ca- 
ble was straightened so that it began to slip, 
he unwound it, and ran to another tree. This 
was repeated several times, until the speed of 
the raft was slackened, and it was drawn ashore, 
where it was made fast by cables. Several 
rafts came down and tied by the side of them 
during the night. The boys paid them a visit, 
and found, to their surprise, that Mr. and Mrs. 
Norton were upon one of them. The cabin 
on this raft was furnished far better than their 
own, and was nearly as comfortable as their 
kitchen at home. 




The next morning they " tied loose," as the 
raftsmen say, and were on their way by day- 
light. 

"We had better slick up a little to-day," 
said the pilot, " and put on our Sunday neat- 
ness." 

" Why so.? 'Tisn't Sunday," said Clare. 

" I expect we shall have visitors to-day," 
said the pilot. 

" Visitors ! " said the hoys ; " whom do you 
expect ? " 

" Somebody usually gets on at Oil City for 
a pleasure ride down the Alleghany. Some- 



times a whole family, with several boys and 
girls, will ride with us ten or twelve miles, and 
then come back on the cars." 

Oil City was now in sight, and as they neared 
the large bridge which spans the river, they 
saw a boat pull out from the shore loaded with 
ladies and gentlemen. 

" There are our visitors, I guess," said the 
pilot. 

" Halloo ! " shouted somebody from the boat ; 
"will you take some passengers .'' " 

" Yes," shouted the pilot; "come aboard." 

The boys saw there were several young la- 
dies of about their own age in the boat, and 
hastened into the cabin to make themselves 
more presentable. 

" These are the owners of the raft," said the 
pilot, as the boys came towards the place where 
he was talking with one of the visitors. 

The gentleman, whose name was Coates, 
was somewhat confused as the pilot introduced 
them, and looked as if he expected some kind 
of a joke. 

" I am very happy to meet you, young gen- 
tlemen," said he; " but isn't that a little joke 
of the pilot's about your owning the raft? " 

" No, sir," said Laurie, laughing; " we are 
owners of a part of the raft, and the remain- 
der is under our command." 

"You are quite young for lumbermen," said 
the gentleman ; " but you seem to have been 
lucky so far. Allow me to introduce you to 
your other visitors." 

These were a lady, the wife of Mr. Coates, 
his son of sixteen, and his two daughters of 
about fourteen. The boys blushed very deeply 
as they were introduced to the ladies as own- 
ers of the raft, and especially Laurie, who had 
been struck with the beauty of one of the young 
ladies. Laurie appointed himself a guide to 
show the visitors about the raft, and in his ex- 
planations soon found himself separated from 
the others, and strolling about with the young 
lady who had so much attracted him. 

They were now approaching the Franklin. 
Bridge. Under this the water ran with great 
swiftness, and it was known as a bad place 
among the pilots. The pilot had not been as 
watchful as usual, his attention being attracted 
by the visitors, and the raft was in danger of 
striking against the pier as thsy neared it. By 
quick pulling the forward end was swung clear 
of the pier, but they were not so successful 
with the stern. It swung around and struck 
the side against the pier. Laurie and Miss- 
Coates were standing upon the edge of the 
raft as it struck, too interested to notice their 
danger. So quick was the shock that they" 



96 

lost their balance, and, in spite of tlieir ef- 
forts, were thrown into the water. Laurie 
grasped her as they struck the water, and man- 
aged to keep both her and himself above the 
surface. Their cry for help as they sank had 
startled the men on the raft, and already two 
ropes had been thrown to him. One of these 
he grasped, and was speedily drawn on board 
with his fainting burden. 

" She must be carried ashore immediately," 
said Mr. Coates, as he grasped his daughter. 
" Here ! a boat — quick ! " 

The boat of the raft was brought to the side, 
and two of the raftsmen entered to row it. 

" Excuse me, Laurie," said Mr. Coates, as 
he was stepping into the boat, — " excuse me. 
I had forgotten, in the anxiety of the moment, 
even to thank you." 

"And I," said Mrs. Coates, extending her 
hand. "Accept my heartfelt thanks for your 
noble deed." 

"Why, I couldn't help it," said Laurie, 
blushing as he took the proffered hand, and 
not knowing what else to say. " I was in, and 
of course it was natural to save her." 

"And God bless you for it. I cannot ex- 
press my gratitude now, but you shall hear 
from me again. Good by, good by," said Mr. 
Coates, as the boat shoved off. 

" Highly romantic, very well performed, and 
bliss and happiness must eventually follow," 
said Sam, as Laurie sat in the cabin drying 
his clothes. 

" There, please don't say any more," said 
Laurie. 

" But how does it feel to be in such a place .•* 
Did 3'ou think you was a hero, and saving 
your future wife, as they do in story books?" 
persisted Sam. 

" O, shut up," said Laurie. "Here comes 
a fellow to sell us something. I'll go and 
make a purchase." 

" Look out, or the young rascal will cheat 
you," said the pilot, as Clare and Sam were 
Taargaining with him. 

"Here's a chicken; he can't cheat us on 
that," said Sam; " and these eggs, too." 

"You'd better try the eggs," said one of the 
hands. 

" You may try 'em," said the seller. 

"Yes, they're good," said Sam. "We'll 
take a couple dozen." 

The boys bought their provisions, and the 
boatman was pulling off, when one of the men 
asked him if he had any whiskey. 

" Yes," said he, producing,a bottle. 

The raftsmen drank nearly half the con- 
tents, and then declared it was not fit to be 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



paid for, and told the boy never to come on 
board again. 

" But I want my pay," said the boy. 

" Get out," said the raftsmen ; and he started 
away. 

When several boat's lengths from the raft, 
he shouted, — 

" I guess you don't make much by that bar- 
gain, if you did get the whiskey. Better try 
your chicken and eggs before you cook 'em." 

" That's some joke," said one of the men ; 
" let's see your chicken." 

"That ain't a chicken," said the pilot, as 
they produced their purchase. " You're beat." 

"What is it.?" asked the boj's. 




Meals on the European Plan. 

"It looks more like an owl than anything 
else," said the pilot, "and that's what 'tis. 
They've picked it clean as a chicken, and I 
don't wonder you were fooled." 

The boys now tried their eggs, and found 
only one good in the two dozen. 

" Well, that's a sell, sure," said they, a little 
discomfited at their trade. 

" Well, we're about even," said Brad. " He 
lost h'is whiskej', and you your money." 

They tied up that night in Miller's Eddy, and 
were soon surrounded with rafts. These were 
so thick that the boys could walk on them for 
some distance up and down the river. It 
looked like a little city of Irish shanties sud- 
denly sprung up on the water, eacli with its 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



97 



little garden patch around it. A number of 
the rafts had violins on board, and the sound 
of these, joined with the songs of the men 
and the gay laughter of the different parties, 
rang over the water. The boys strolled among 
the rafts for some time, enjoying the romantic 
scenes, and the wild songs and dances, which 
were joined in by the whole crew. The In- 
dians, of whom a large number were among 
the rafts, added to the sport by their dances, 
many of which have descended from their old 
war dances, and are now only seen in this 
peaceful form. 

The boys had hardly fallen asleep that night 
when they were awakened by the shouts of men 
and the snapping of cables. They rushed out, 
and saw that the rafts near them were in mo- 
tion, and drifting down the river. The men 
were yelling, pilots shouting orders, and the 
whole scene was the wildest confusion. Their 




" You're beat." 

own raft was between several others, and was 
borne by them out into the river. 

" What does all this mean ? " asked the boys 
all at once. 

" We've been broken loose by a timber raft," 
said the pilot, who was putting forth all his 
efforts to extricate the raft. 

The boys could see a large raft, built of heavy 
timbers, among the others, which was not there 
before, and this seemed to be crowding its way 
through to the shore, breaking loose the other 
rafts, and crowding them aside. The men were 



pushing the rafts apart, and throwing off ca- 
bles fastened to their own. Several of the 
rafts went ashore, or were stove upon the rocks 
with which the eddy abounded. By skilful 
management the boys' raft was got clear of 
the others, and they started out into the dark- 
ness down the river. 

" Aren't you going to land.?" asked Sam. 

" No, I dare not try it; it would be too dan- 
gerous," said the pilot. 

"Where did that raft come from that broke 
us loose.'" asked Laurie. 

" From up the Alleghany. It is built of 
solid timbers, and is heavier than ours. I've 
seen 'em do the same thing before — run into 
a lot of rafts to stop themselves, and break 'em 
loose. It's mighty dangerous running in the 
night, and we may expect to stave any min- 
ute ; but may be we'll be lucky enough to get 
through." 

The men stood at their oars all night, only 
now and then catching a nap in the intervals 
of pulling. Several times they were on the 
point of staving on a rock which could not be 
seen in the darkness, and they did not escape 
without several hard bumps. 

When the boys awoke in the morning, they 
saw the river had widened, and that the bank 
was lined with cultivated fields and white cot- 
tages. Far down the river they saw a heavy 
cloud of smoke rising, and spreading out like 
a pall. The boys asked the pilot what it was. 

" It's the smoke in Pittsburg. That's the 
blackest city in the United States. They have 
so many furnaces and iron works that they keep 
a perfect cloud of smoke over the city, and fill 
the air with coal dust." 

Soon the piers of the bridges were in sight, 
seeming a perfect network, through which the 
hoys thought it impossible to run. But the 
pilot understood the current, and they were 
soon through the bridges. The raft ran six 
or seven miles below the city before it found a 
place to tie up, so thick were the rafts. 

The raftsmen went to sleep, and the boys 
went up to Pittsburg, by a steamboat, where 
Laurie found a letter for him, which he very 
carefully kept from the boys. But they said 
it was postmarked Franklin, and they believed 
it was in a feminine handwriting. 




9$ 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 







The Puksuit 



AMONG THE EAPTSMEN. 

BY FRANK H. TAYLOR. 

VI. — FORAGING — CONCLUSION. 

AT Pittsburg the rafts were again coupled, 
two of the Allegheny pieces making one 
on the Ohio. The boys, however, did not 
couple their raft. Thej had concluded to run 
it single, as it was as safe, and there were 
none of Mr. Norton's to which thej could 
couple it. New hands were hired to take the 
place of those who were to return for another 
trip, fresh provisions were put on board, and 
the next morning the boys pulled out. 

On the broad Ohio the men found it easy 
work to run the raft, and reclined lazily at 
the oars. The boys either lay upon the boards 
in the warm sunshine, or strolled about the 
raft, watching the passing steamboats. 

"What would happen if we should run into 
one of those steamboats?" said Laurie. 

"We should have to help the passengers 
out of the water, I'm thinking," said the 
pilot. 

"I should think they would be more apt to 
help us out," said Sam. 

" O, no ! They are very careful to keep out 
of our way. If a raft, or flat-boat, as they 



call it, should strike one of those steamers, it 
would crush in its side as if 'twas a scow. 
You'll find that everything on the river keeps 
out of the way of a raft." 

The boys found that river life grew monot- 
onous upon the Ohio, as they floated idly 
along each day. There was none of the 
dangers and sudden mishaps which they had 
met on the Alleghen^'^, but pleasant weather 
and only a little work. The men grew irrita- 
ble, and wished for something to turn up, no 
matter wiiat it was ; even a smash-up would be 
preferable to this listlessness ; anything that 
would cause a disturbance and make a little 
excitement. 

" This is fearful dull." said the man who 
was nicknamed Brad, as they tied up one 
night. They rarely tied up at night; but as 
it was more dangerous than usual below them 
that night, they had concluded not to run. "I 
wish something might happen," continued 
Brad; " even a fight would be a luxury." 

" Well, s'pose'n we stir up something," saic? 
his mate at the oar. 

" What do you say to a raid to-night.^" said 
Brad. 

"Good! be a jolly night for it. Darker'n 
pitch, and the wind blowing loud enough to 
drown all noises." 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN 



99 



"What's a raid?" asked Sam, who, with 
the other bojs, was sitting by them. 

" It's what I explained to you once as a 
lark," said Brad; "a little walk on shore 
after eatables, you know. We call it by any 
name that happens to come easy. They call 
us raiders, and so we say, when goino; out, 
that it is a raid." 

" S'pose we go to-night," said the other 
raftsmen. 

"All right. Don't let none of the other 
men know it, and we'll dig out about mid- 
night. How would you boys like to go.?" 
said Brad, turning to them. 

" I'll go," said Sam, who was ready for any- 
thing. 

"I'll see what the pilot says," said Laurie. 
^' If he thinks it's all right, I'll go." 

"Tell him not to let it out to the other 
men," said Brad, as the boys started to speak 
to the pilot. 

"Yes, go on," said the pilot, when the boys 
told him of the lark. "You won't come to 
any harm, that's sure; for the men don't go 
off for any bad purpose. It's more for excite- 
ment than anything else, and it'll do you 
good to have a tramp." 

"I guess I won't go," said Clare, who didn't 
relish the long walk. "I'll stay here, and 
help eat the chickens you get." 

The boys teased Clare to go ; but he refused, 
and they finally started oflf without him. The 
party consisted of Brad, and his chum, and 
the two boys. Each carried a grub as a 
weapon of defence against any dog that might 
beset them. The night was so dark that they 
could not distinguish objects a rod ahead of 
them. They struck off directly across the 
lots, climbing fences, tumbling into ditches, 
and running into swamps. It seemed to the 
boys as if they ran into every mud-hole that 
could be found on their journey. After walk- 
ing about an hour, they stopped to rest, sit- 
ting down on a log. 

"I'm pretty tired," said Sam, "and my feet 
are dripping wet. I went over boots into a 
ditch, and filled them with mud and water." 

"And I've torn my trousers," said Laurie, 
"and bumped my knee, lost my hat a couple 
of times, and found it once down in the mud, 
where I'd stepped on it, and almost pushed it 
out of sight." 

" O, you'll get over all that in five minutes," 
said Brad. " We'll rest a while, and then 
make a roundabout way back to the raft, and 
I guess we'll light on some farm-yard." 

They soon started back on a different course, 
and had accomplished about one half the dis- 



tance, when Sam suddenly stopped, and said, 
" Hark I I thought I heard a sheep bleat." 

They listened, and soon the sound was re- 
peated. 

"Yes, here we are right close to a barn- 
yard," said Brad. " Now be cautious, and 
keep together." 

They walked carefully towards the barns, 
which could now be seen ahead of them, and 
finding the gate, they were soon inside the 
barn-yard. 

"Now we must find the hen-roost," said 
Brad, " and then each man load himself. 
Don't make much noise." 




" Now run, boys." 

" Here it is," said Sam, as he thrust his 
stick into a small house by the side of the 
barn, and an unmistakable cackle came from 
the inside. 

"There are turkeys here, also," said Brad, 
as he and the boys clambered inside, leaving 
the other men outside to watch. Brad had 
only caught the first turkey, when the sentinel 
thrust his head in at the door, and whispered, 
"Clear out, Brad; here comes some one! " 

" Grab a chicken, boys," said Brad; "we'll 
have something to show for our tramp." 

The boys each grabbed a chicken, and 
sprang out of the house. 

"Now run, boys," said Brad; "keep close 
to our heels ! " 

"Thieves! thieves! Bring the dogs:' 



lOO 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



shouted some one behind them; and then 
came the sound of pursuing footsteps. 

" Ka-jow ! ka- jow ! " jelled the chickens, 
which the bojs were dragging along by one leg. 

"Confound those chickens," said Brad; 
" wring their necks ! " 

But the boys were too scared, and the sound 
of footsteps too near, to allow them to stop to 
do that; so the chickens yelled on, the boys 
dragging them along head downwards. 

" Let those chickens drop ! " shouted Brad ; 
" they'll follow us as long as they can hear 
those yells ! " 




:*'l-;^j.>. 







"Thieves! thieves!" 

Sam dropped his load ; but before Laurie 
could obey, an unseen accident happened. 
There was a dry, open ditch in their course, 
and into this Laurie fell, smothering the last 
note of the chicken under him. The others 
fell partly into the ditch, but quickly clam- 
bered out, and hastened on without missing 
Laurie. He was stunned by the fall, and lay 
a few moments without moving. When he 
came .to his senses, he heard voices close to 
him, and the yells of men. He concluded 
they were the voices of his pursuers, and lay 
still until they had passed. He then rose up, 
and looked around. He was alone, in a 
strange place, with men hunting after him, 
and not knowing which way to go. He finally 
concluded to follow on in the direction the 
others had gone. 



Just then the chicken gave a reviving squall. 
"Halloo! j'ou alive yet.'"' said Laurie. "I 
guess I'll take you along with me, since I have 
had so much trouble in getting you." He 
tucked the chicken's head under his coat to 
keep it still, and trudged on in the direction 
the others had gone. His head ached where 
he had bumped it as he fell into the ditch, his 
feet were sore from the long tramp, his legs 
ached where he had struck them against logs, 
and his clothes were torn and muddy. 

" I've had enough of going larking," said 
he, as he slowly plodded along. "It looks a 
little too much like stealing, and a fellow don't 
get enough to pay him for his bruises. I'll 
bet you don't catch me in another such scrape 
right off." 

Laurie soon heard the pursuers returning, 
and hid himself behind a fence. He heard 
enough of their conversation, as they passed, 
to learn that they had not caught any of the 
party. After they had passed, Laurie came 
out of his hiding-place, and trudged on again, 
stumbling through the darkness, and wishing 
he was safe on the raft. 

" Halloo ! " suddenly shouted some one close 
beside him. 

" Halloo, yourself! " shouted Laurie in re- 
turn. 

" Is that 3'ou, Laurie .'' " said the voice, which 
he now recognized as belonging to Sam. 

"Yes; how came you here, Sam.? Where 
is the rest of the party .f"' 

" They've gone on to the raft. I got so 
tii-ed, I couldn't run any longer, and Brad told 
me to crawl into these. bushes, and stay around 
here until morning, when they would come 
back. I saw those fellows who were after us. 
They came down here, and turned around, and 
went back." 

"When did you miss me.''" 

"About half a mile back. We reckoned 
you had hid somewhere to rest, and then, when 
I heard you coming along talking to yourself, 
I knew it was you, and so I hailed." 

"We can't find the raft to-night; so we had 
better find a place to sleep, and stay here until 
morning." 

"We passed an old barn a few rods back. 
We'd better go there and find a sleeping- 
place." 

The boys soon found the barn, and crawled 
inside through a window. 

" Here's hay," said Sam ; " we can have as 
good a sleeping-place here as we could on our 
bunks of straw." 

" What shall I do with this chicken to keep 
it safe until morning.?" 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



" Let it go ; we've had trouble enough with 
chickens." 

Laurie threw the chicken out of the window. 
The boys then burrowed into the hay, and 
were soon fast asleep. They awoke the next 
morning at daylight, their bruises sore, and 
themselves stiff with wounds. Laurie's head 
still ached, and their clothes presented a sorry 
sight. 

" I feel about fifty years old," said Laurie, 
as he crawled out of the hay. 

"And I feel nigh a hundred," said Sam, 
going to the window to see their whereabouts. 
" Halloo, Laurie! I can see the river. It isn't 
more than half a mile away." 

The boys immediately started for the river, 
and, after half an hour's walk, reached the 
raft. They found the men astir, and Brad 
was starting in search of them. 

"Where are your chickens.'"' said Clare, as 
the boys entered the shantv- 

"Never you mind," said Sam; "they're 
where you won't eat them." 

The boys spent the remainder of the day in 
nursing their wounds and bruises. This lark 
quite effectually broke up all thoughts of lark- 
ing. Only one other attempt was made, and 
the originator of that came to grief in quite 
an unexpected manner. 

The raft had been tied up about an hour be- 
fore daylight, to give the hands a chance to 
rest. A. farm-house stood upon the bank not 
more than a hundred rods from the raft, and 
Pheelin said he could get some chickens from 
there, and get back again before daylight. 

He found the hen-house, but could find no 
entrance, except a small window, throu,<Th 
which he could hardly squeeze his body. 
Nothing daunted, Pheelin tried the window, 
and squeezed half of his body through, when 
he began to reach around in search of tne 
chickens. His legs outside were kicking 
around in the air, and they soon drew the at- 
tention of a buck, which was confined in the 
yard. He took their evolutions as a sign of 
battle, and, backing up, he charged, striking 
Pheelin m the rear, and causing him to disap- 
pear through the window with uncommon 
quickness. 

" What was that.' Shoo, there ; now don't 
hit me agin. Who is the man that dare strike 
a defenceless man unawares.?" shouted Pheelin 
out of the hen-house. But there was no an- 
swer. He cautiously stuck his head out of 
the window, and, looking around, he saw the 
sheep. "And was it you, you dirty blackguard, 
that hit me? But Pd like to give you ahitwid 
me shillelah. What, hain't you gomg to let 



me out.'' Shoo, now, don't be foolin'," said 
Pheelin, as, attempting to climb out, he saw 
the sheep make unmistakable signs of another 
charge. Pheelin was now in a fix. Every 
attempt to scare the sheep away was unavail 
ing, and whenever he attempted to escape by 
the window, the sheep commenced hostile mo- 
tions. It was nearly daylight, and the farmer 
would soon be out to attend his chores. Phee- 
lin was getting " unaisy," when a happy 
thought struck him. He saw that the yard 
fence only came to the corner of the hen- 
house ; so, should he knock off a board on this 
side, he could crawl out, and be outside of the 
yard. After a dint of hard kicks, a board was 
knocked off, and Pheelin ingloriously retreated 
through the hole, and started on a run to the 
raft without his chickens. 






■"^ \i-if 



-k 



\^ J, "^^/^ l.'.«-s. =**"' lUK^ 




Is that you, Laurie ? " 



When the raft came to Marietta, a number 
of gentlemen came on board of it with Mr. 
Norton, among whom was Mr. Arlington, 
whose shingles they were running. Mr. Nor- 
ton had gone on ahead of the rafts to sell the 
lumber. 

" Here is a purchaser for your lumber, 
boys," said Mr. Norton. 

" But I thought we were to run it to Cincin- 
nati," said the boys. 

"You can get as much for it here as to run 
it farther, and many of the rafts stop here." 

"I have sold my shingles here, bovs," said 



I03 



AMONG THE RAFTSMEN. 



Mr. Arlington, " so that you need not keep 
your lumber back on my account." 

"How much have you sold your lumber 
for?" asked the boys, aside, of Mr. Norton. 

"Twenty-eight dollars a thousand, and five 
dollars for shingles." 

"Do you wish to sell your lumber.^" asked 
one of the gentlemen, as the boys walked to- 
wards them. 

"Yes, sir," said Laurie. 

" What is your price .'' " 

" We ask twenty-eight dollars a thousand." 

"You are rather high, I fear." 

"No, sir; I think that is the usual price." 

"I will give you twenty-seven and a half." 

" No, sir; we have no lumber to sell at that 
price," replied Laurie, firmly. 

" I'll give you a quarter more." 

"No use; our price is twenty-eight dollars." 

" You can't beat them down," said one of 
the gentlemen, who was pleased with Laurie's 
firm answers. 




Pheelin uiieaby 

The bargain was finally made, and tne money 
paid. 

Mr. Norton had sold the other part of the 
raft; so the hands all landed, and made prepa- 
rations to return home. 

The money had been paid to the boys, who 
hardly knew what to do with so much. They 
paid Mr. Norton his half, paid off their men, 
and divided the remainder an-ong themselves, 



when they found that each had the sum of 
one hundred and eighty dollars. This was an 
enormous sum in the eyes of boys fourteen 
years old, and they had the pleasure of know- 
ing that they had earned it by their own 
efforts. 

The boys, having finished their business in 
the lumber trade, started for home, Clare and 
Laurie returning home with Sam. After stay- 
ing here a few days, they returned to their 
own home, where their parents hardly knew 
the two brown boys as the same that had left 
them in the winter. 

The boys invested their money where it is 
constantly increasing, and they talk of return- 
ing to the lumber trade in the spring. Clare 
says Laurie has a correspondent in the Oil 
Regions, and Laurie does not deny it. Should 
the boys enter into another speculation, you 
may, perhaps, hear from our young raftsmen 
again. 




THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



IO_^ 




"The riatta shot forward, and settled on the animal's horns." 



THE OAMP IS THE GULOH. 

I.— THE MARCH.— THE CAMP. — THE 
LECTURE-COURSE. 

BY JUSTIN DALE. 

ARIZONA, as a word, lias become almost 
synonymous with desert. In speaking 
of a barren land, if we should say it was an 
Arizona, there could hardly be a more accu- 
rate idea of a desert, which was not absolutely 
a desert, conveyed. For, with its tangled 
maze of almost unfathomable chasms and 
gorges, so little penetrated by civilized man ; 
its endless lines of massive cliffs; its diaboli- 
cal natives; its desolate wastes of vsand and 
rocks, combined with its burning sun and 
great scarcity of water, — Arizona is, truly, not 
a realm where the tourist would spend his 
leisure moments, nor the farmer build his 
humble cabin. Hence we find that hitherto 
it has presented few attractions to any but the 
inquisitive explorer or the eager prospector. 

It was my good luck, at a certain period, to 
stumble through portions of these very wilds, 
connected with a band of the former class of 
those itinerant spirits who first break path- 
ways into the unknown regions of our globe, 
who prepare the way for the subsequent intro- 
duction of civilization. We were not exactly, 



at the time of which I write, breaking a 
pathway, as we followed a trail that had al- 
ready been travelled a number of times by ouf 
frontier friends, the Ivlormons, on their way 
to and from the seven ancient cities. 

Neither was the sun, this autumn day, very 
familiar. Indeed, he was so distant in his 
manners, withdrawing behind the fleeting 
clouds so frequently, that we really would have 
thought the stories of his great power in this 
section unfounded, had we not, at an earlier 
day, had sufficient proof of his strength. 

In consequence of his reticent mood, you 
are satisfied, when you catch your first view 
of our little train, that none of its members 
are suffering with the noonday heat. To speak 
more plainly', the day was chill and disagree- 
able. The time we were making would not 
have been envied by a Dexter nor by a Gold- 
smith Maid, as our pack animals, being laden 
rather heavily, were more disposed to wander 
from the trail, and, with a half-famished air, 
snatch up the bunch-grass that grew in abun- 
dance alongside, than to make any extraordi- 
nary exertions to get over the ground. Prob- 
ably they felt that a distention of the stomach 
was more agreeable to travel on than the 
vague feeling of nothingness which must be 
produced by the continual aggravation of a 
heavy pack and a tight siiic/te. We could not 



104 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



blame them for stealing a mouthful of the 
sweet grass now and then ; but, not having 
had anything ourselves to eat since early morn- 
ing, we were anxious to arrive as quickly as 
possible at the anticipated House Rock Gulch, 
where we were to find plenty of wholesome 
water, and an abundance of fuel with which to 
prepare our evening meal. 

To allow, therefore, the jaded brutes to 
pick along at their leisure, was not the way to 
end our day's journey and fill our empty stom- 
achs ; so, in true western style, we held forth 
an occasional exhortation to, the wayward, 
accompanied by a whack from a good stout 
stick; and the train was kept moving at about 
a three-mile gait, while some camp-kettles 
which had been too loosely tied to " old 
Dick's " pack, kept up a clang-clang, clang- 
clang, with such a precise regularity, that it 
must have astonished the old white plug him- 
self, even though he had pranced over moun- 
tain and valley, in his present capacity, Gince 
he was introduced from Spain by Escalante. 




Loading the animals. 

Silence reigned supreme, only, once in a 
great while, when the train was halted to al- 
low a pack to be " fixed." This readjustment 
sometimes — yes, generally — was the entire 
repacking of the animal; and, in order that 
you may understand how this packing is done, 
in regions where it is the only way of freight- 
ing practicable, I will devote a few words to 
teach you. 

In the first place, of course, we must have 
the animal (not always necessarily a quadru- 
ped, but sometimes an aboriginal biped, though 
the load is diflierently applied to these latter), 
be it horse or mule, and, if your " cayoose'^ is 
a ^^ broncho" (wild, unbroken), the utmost 
care must be exercised to keep beyond the 
reach of his fantastic movements. 

Several times on this day had a broncho 



tossed a couple of packers rather roughly 
among the sage-brush; but each time they 
had recovered themselves immediately, and 
returned to their work. 

Having selected your pack-animal, you want | 
a pack-saddle. (See illustration.) This gener- 
ally has a breeching to it, and sometimes a 
breast-strap, to prevent the slipping of the pack 
on heavy grades. It also has &.stnche (illustra- 
tion), made of hair or canvas, which is attached 
to the saddle by adjustable straps, that com- 
pletes the circuit of the horse, and holds the 
saddle firmly in its place. 

On the back of the animal is put a blanket, 
and on this the saddle is placed, almost in the 
middle of the back. If you are acquainted 
with saddling a horse in the " States," you 
know that the saddle is placed high up on the 
withers, and the girth drawn close to the fore- 
legs — the English style; hard on the horse, 
and hard on the rider, on successive long days' 
journeys. "Out west," however, as I have 
said, the saddle .is put fairly on the back, and 
the sinclie — not girth — drawn over the middle 
of the belly. Thus, as long as. the sinche is 
kept tight, the danger of galling the back by 
long rides, or heavj' packs, is almost wholly 
avoided. 

When your pack-saddle, then, is in its prop- 
er position, you must draw the sinche up so 
tight that, were it done in New York, Mr. 
Bergh would be instantly after you, with the 
whole outfit of T. S. F. T. P. O. C T. A. 
This tight sinching is absolutely necessarj-, 
for, though a little cruel, upon it depends the 
preservation of 3'our horse's back. 

Upon the saddle the pack is hung in various 
ways by various persons, and over it is thrown 
a blanket or a piece of canvas. Then the 
" lash-rope " — at one end of which is a sinche 
similar to the one on the saddle, but supplied 
with a large wooden hook — is applied. This 
is done in a number of ways, but the one gen- 
erally adopted is that known as the " miner's 
diamond," or " diamond hitch," receiving its 
name from the fact that when the lashing is 
completed, a part of the rope forms a diamond 
on top of the pack. 

The rope in position, and everything ready, 
it is " tightened up " after this manner. One 
packer on the " off" side places his foot 
against the brute's ribs, beneath the pack, and 
draws up on the portion of the rope running 
through the hook, while the one on the "nigh" 
side hauls in the slack over the top. The rope 
is then passed round the corners, pulled and 
tightened until the pack seems part of the 
horse, and. to conclude, the end is firmly se- 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



105 



cured. He is packed. All that remains is to 
step back and let him go. If he has been in 
the business long, he knows it is policy to fall 
in the line of the train, and stay there. 

Sometimes a pack will get loose unperceived, 
or through negligence, and then a horse that, 
perhaps ten minutes before, was so meek and 
jaded he seemed ready to lie down and — 
rest, bounds instantaneously into energetic ac- 
tion. Frantically he prances around, and 
performs somersets and double-action feats 
worthy of an accomplished acrobat, freely 
distributing to all points of the compass an 
endless variety of frying-pans, camp-kettles, 
coffee-mills, and articles of a similar charac- 
ter, till, relieved of his tormenting pack, he 
stops. He was "bucking" — that was all. 
Rather an airy accomplishment that western 
horses have. Woe to the foor rider who 
mounts a prize bucker.* He finds out his 
mistake without much difficulty, and climbs 
into the air, out of reach, pretty quick. After 
our pack-bucker has stopped, he turns, slyly 
winks at his companions, and, with a vicious 
relish, drinks in the scene of devastation. 

Mournfully we gather up the scattered val- 
uables, and, replacing them upon the gentle 
creature's back, draw the lash-rope so very 
tight that, as he moves off to join the impa- 
tient caravan, his every step causes him to 
give a most melancholy grunt, that serves in 
a measure to atone for his work of desolation. 

Our train held steadily on its way towards 
the Kibab Plateau, or Buckskin Mountain, 
which extends like a huge barrier across the 
western sky, from the angle of the Vermilion 
Cliffs on the north far into the hazy south, 
broken only at one point by the Grand Caiion 
of the Colorado. 

It seemed, from the direction of our trail, 
that our gulch must be a branch of some hid- 
den valley of the plateau. But it appeared 
such a long way off, and the bright spot in 
the clouds marking the sun was already far 
down towards the horizon. I hoped it was 
not there. The snow, too, set in bold relief 
the tall pines, and it all looked so cold and 
dreary for a camp ! We had not our supply 
ofwinter clothing yet, and the impudent snow- 
flake that flitted before me felt like an icicle. 

But what right had an explorer to think of 
discomforts.? Was it not his lot. !• There were 
dead pines among the others that would make 
noble fuel, and the blaze would dance and 
crackle as it reminded us of last night, when 
we huddled close around the flashing brush- 

* Don't get the idea from this that men ride on the packs. 
They don't. 



fire, now chilled by the searching winds, un- 
broken by a single obstruction, and anon 
quickly drawing back to escape the fierce con- 
flagration of a fresh supply of brush, and 
finally retiring to our cold blankets for com- 
fort and protection. 

My reflections, however, were superfluous, 
for the trail began to verge to the north, and, 
as we neared the plateau, we turned the angle 
of the clift", towering close on our right, en- 
tering a long, gutter-like valley, about three 
miles wide, lying between the cliffs and the 
plateau. It was House Rock Valley. We 
must, then, be near the gulch and the famous 
House Rock, from which the valley, and gulch, 
and spring had derived their names. 




Hair Sinche. 



Lash-rope Sinche. 

The Vermilion Clift's were full of gulches, 
and we looked momentarily for the trail to 
turn into one of them, though, from their gen- 
eral aspect, one would not have looked there 
for water. They lost some of their forbidding 
impressions, however, as we became more ac- 
customed to the ruggedness, and as the vege- 
tation surrounding began to change from the 
stunted sage-brush and grease-wood to strag- 
gling cedars gathered in groups here and there 
in the valley, the distant ones appearing, in 
the duskiness, like hobgoblin troops — the 
spirits of the ancient inhabitants guarding 
their desert kingdom from invading footsteps; 
and at our nearer approach the grim senti- 
nels stretch out their ragged arms in silent 
remonstrance. 

Unheeding, the train moves on, and the 
long, drear, *' siwish " of the night-wind, sweep- 
ing down the valley and through the dark fo- 
liage, sounds strangely like a solemn warning. 

Presently the cedars grow thicker, and 



io6 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



pinon (pin-jon), or nut-pines, are inter- 
spersed. As many of both are dead, prospects 
of a rousing camp-fire are brilliant indeed. 
We pass, close to the foot of the cliffs, two 
large rocks, which have fallen from above, 
and now rest in such a manner that there is 
quite a space between them — a little cave, as 
it were. Under the projecting upper edge of 
one rock I could just read, " Rock House 
Hotel," inscribed with charcoal. So it wasn't 
much of a house rock, after all; and, as I 
wondered who, out of the rude frontiersmen, 
had felt the touch of romance, we rode into a 
gulch, and stopped. It was the Gulch of Hou&e 
Rock Spring. 

The animals were immediately unpacked 
and unsaddled, and soon found their way to a 
basin of pure water, where they satiated them- 
selves. The pool was fed by a stream about 
two inches wide, spurting from a crevice in 
the rocks, and we rejoiced that we had such 
an unfailing supply. 

The camp-kettles were brought up, and car- 
ried back overflowing. Everybody washed, 
was refreshed, and felt as though they could 
make a desperate assault on the supper, which 
was already in rapid progress over a roaring 
fire. Even our two sick men were thawed out 
by the cheering warmth, and felt amiable once 
more ; one experienced so much comfort that he 
remarked on the blessings of a bountiful camp. 

Our situation, with everything around to 
make it comfortable, was appreciated. We ate 
our supper by the flaring light of a huge pine 
log, and then the two invalids retired in the 
best of moods. 

While four of us were to remain at the 
gulch, it was decided that the rest, with the 
sick men in charge, 'should go across the pla- 
teau, forty miles, to the settlement. So, early 
the next morning, in order that all might par- 
ticipate, if necessary, a bullock that we had 
driven for several days was brought up from 
the valley, and cornered back of camp, ready 
for slaughter. Our gladiator, in the shape of 
the " General," advanced bravely, and levelled 
his old " Henry" fairly at the brute's head. 

" Crack," the piece went, and the " critter," 
with a snort, bounded for the valley. The 
bullet had lodged in the base of the horns. 
But provision had been made for this emer- 
gency. A vaqiiero, mounted on a lively old 
horse, charged after the truant steer with 
lariat circling in air; and, as they rose on the 
brow of a neighboring hill, the riatta shot 
forward, and settled on the animal's horns. 
Our beef was brought up, and, after a slight 
struggle, reluctantlv returneti. 



A second time he was arranged for sacri- 
fice. He was a gentle creature. His large, 
solemn eyes gazed mournfully on the General 
as a second "crack" re-echoed through the 
gulch, and, with a low moan, he sank to the 
ground. Four tempting quarters soon hung 
on a convenient pine, and supper found us 
enjoying a steak fresh and tender. 

This evening was to be the last, for some 
time, with our companions who were going 
over the mountain, and the last for years — 
perhaps forever — with one, tried and true, 
who was soon to breathe the balmy zephyrs 
of the Orient. 

Lounging around the fire, we chatted over 
bygone days of adventure, and of that tim.e — 
which danced, ignis-faiuus like, so far ahead 
in the misty future — when we, too, should 
pass from the Pacific slope, until the smiling 
moon, riding over the edge of the cliffs, warned 
us to bed. 

The night was cold, very cold for torrid 
Arizona, the thermometer in the morning 
indicating -\- lo degrees. We slept as well as 
our scanty supply of blankets would permit, 
the sick men getting along very comfortably. 
My only distinct recollection was an insane 
attempt I made to throw a small cactus, which 
I mistook for a stone in the combination of 
moonlight and drowsiness, at a prowling 
coyote. My fingers became entangled in the 
spines, and I hesitated. I thougiit I had never 
seen anything so hard to pick up as that cac- 
tus. The coyote, meanwliile, witli a hateful 
sniff, trotted off, and I, after disengaging my 
fingers, turned in again, half frozen. 

Unusually early in the morning breakfast 
was ready and disposed of. Tiie packs were 
put on, and all mounted but the General, the 
Captain, and the "Pirate." These three, to- 
gether with myself, were the company to re- 
main. 

The Deacon had the inflammatory rheuma- 
tism. He had it bad. He had it so very bad 
that, in his helpless innocence, he could do 
nothing but sing at the highest pitch of his 
melodious soprano, to drive away the melan- 
choly thoughts of dying, and being "plant- 
ed" by the trail-side, — 

" There'll bc-e no sorrow there. 
There'll be-e no sorrow there ; 
In heaven above, where all is love. 
There'll be-e no sorrow there." 

Whenever he travelled at all, he had to ride, 

and so he would have to ride up the side of 

the plateau. The climb was a sharp one, and 

the horse would be tired out; so I had to so 

i along (my luck) to bring him back. 




THE POND 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



109 



When we reached the foot of the mountain, 
the most gradual rise was selected, and, after 
a deal of hard scrambling, the summit was 
gained, where all were willing to take a rest. 
A half mile back from the ascent, the Deacon 
was transferred from Thunderbolt to " Old 
Doc," a staid and pensive steed. Then I bade 
them all a final farewell, and turned towards 
the verge of the plateau, with my caj'oose in 
tow. As I walked along, the Deacon's sono- 
rous voice echoed through the timber, — 

" O, Doc! please. Doc, won't jou go.^"' 

I presumed that Doc had got to studying 
geology, as the train moved over the exposed 
strata; but I did not for a moment imagine 
that he would disregard such an entreaty. It 
would have moved an orang-outang to tears. 

From what followed, I concluded that Doc 
was possessed of a hard heart, that had been 
deaf to the Deacon's gentle tones; also that 
the latter had forgotten there would be " no 
sorrow there," for he produced a paragraph of 
persuasion, which, crashing like a whirlwind 
through the stout branches, actually made old 
Thunderbolt's teeth chatter. It was a tri- 
umph ! There was no room for a doubt, and 
I passed out of hearing, satisfied that as an 
exhorter the Deacon was a grand success. 

Emerging from the timber, I stopped to 
contemplate the view. First, far away in the 
north, could be seen the end of the Pouti-sxiv- 
gunt plateau, followed by Table Mountain 
with its vertical, pink face, and intervening 
the broken lines of cliff. 

Further to the east came the sharp peak just 
to the right of Table Mountain, and the long 
line of regular cliffs, swinging round to the 
Navajo Mountain, which loomed up majesti- 
cally in its solitary grandeur ; while peeping 
over the top of these cliffs were the five snow- 
white peaks of the unknown range, lying close 
to the Dirty Devil River. Between me and 
the cliffs were House Rock Valley, the Ver- 
milion Cliffs, the Pa Ria Plateau, the narrow 
canon of the Pa Ria River, and avast expanse 
of broken desert. To the south was the lono- 
line of the Kibab, ending in a mass of rugged 
crags; and an expressionless stretch of weary 
desert, separated by the narrow but deep gorge 
of the Colorado. 

All was but bitter desolation. There was 
something fascinating about the view; but to 
call it beautiful was impossible, for beauty 
seems to imply charming softness and regu- 
larity of outline — a view, for instance, which, 
instead of crushing one, by its grandeur, with 
an overwhelming realization of his own in- 
significance, breathes upon him a soft, ethe- 



real zephyr, that melts all the harshness of 
his worldly spirit into rapture, and transports 
his soul towards an aesthetic throne. 

The scene before me was not one of this 
kind. It was stern and cold. It reflected the 
brilliant sun with an unchecked fierceness. 
The dazzling glare of innumerable colors 
stunned me. The dark gorges seemed threat- 
ening to swallow me up, and the ragged peaks 
to toss me to the sky. I felt lonely. For re- 
lief, I gazed with my glass towards the gulch, 
to seg just one sign of reassuring life; but the 
film of blue smoke that usually marks a hidden 
camp was dissolved in the shimmering haze. 

Like a frightened boy, I concluded I wasn't 
wanted around there, and started for " home.' 
I went down the trail, with Thunderbolt 




A Coyote annihilated. 

leading behind, and had gone but a few feet 
when I found that this broncho, like the gen- 
erality of western horses, had a will of his 
own. He didn't believe in going down hill 
without calculating every footstep; that is, he 
didn't believe it till I convinced him of the 
folly of his ways with a Spanish bayonet. 

When I arrived in camp once more, I found 
my companions busy pitching a four by eight 
observation tent close to the fire. Aftevitwas 
staj'ed and guyed thorcuighlj', the captain cov- 
ered the ground inside with the dry, sweet- 
scented canes from the spring. Upon these 
bur blankets were spread, and then we stepped 
back to admire the institution, which pervaded 
the entire gulch with such an air of comfort. 

As darkness settled once again over the val- 
ley, and a delicious odor was wafting to any 
one, but especially' to the hunger-stricken coy- 
ote (ky-o-ty), from the beef sputtering over 
the fire, a chorus of the latter saluted us from 
out in the valley. 



iro 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



•• Boys," exclaimed Cap., " I'm going into 

ic fur business I Cojote skins are pretty 
good now, and I'm going to trap enough to 
make a robe." 

And the first thing tlie next morning Cap. 
built a wolf-pen beween a couple of isolateil 
rocks, and setting his six-shooter, baited the 
trap, so that any sneaking specimen of a coy- 
ote, attempting to silence the pangs of his 
gnawing stomach, would be annihilated in- 
stantly. 

Perhaps some of my younger readers think 
ihat we should have taken the war-path against 
the grizzly, or some other fierce favorite of 
the far west, instead of trapping coyotes. But 
they must remember that the west is an exten- 
sive region, and one doesn't stumble on a 
grizzly behind every bush. Besides, the sec- 
tion we were in was most gloriously free from 
any wild animals but wolves and jack-rabbits, 
and a few timid deer. You see, then, it would 
have been a long hunt for a grizzly. The 
deer were so scarce that we saw but a track 
now and then; and the rabbits we didn't want. 
Nothing remained but coyotes; and every- 
body is ready to take vengeance on them. 

We knew wistful eyes gazed longingly, by 
moonlight, at our beef in the tree. It was a 
clear case of sour grapes ! We resolved, com- 
passionately, to remove a portion of the meat 
by "jerking" it. In connection with western 
life, you have often read of jerked meat, yet, 
possibly, do not know how it is prepared ; so 
I will tell you the manner of our proceed- 
ings. 

To begin with, the General went to work and 
built a scaffold, and when that waS finished, 
we lowered three quarters from the pine, and 
cut the meat off in long, thin strips. These 
we dipped in brine, and then strung on slim 
willows. The willows were next laid on the 
scaffolding in such a manner that the strips 
of meat swung clear beneath. In this posi- 
tion tliey were exposed to the heat of the sun, 
and also to that of a fire. The mercury, in 
the daj'time, being above the freezing point, 
this combination of drying forces had a tell- 
ing eflect. 

We deduce, then, the conclusion that jerk- 
ing meat is simply drying it in thin strips by 
the agency of the sun, or the sun and a fire, 
in order to preserve it in a compact form for 
future use. 

Upon this quantity of beef we spent much 
labor, and lost the whole of it shortly after; 
had to stand guard over it one night to pre- 
vent the coyotes devouring it as they had cvcvy 
fragment of the entrails. 



We were seldom disturbed at night in oiii 
quiet gulch b\- anything but the discharge of 
Cap.'s jiistol, indicating the decease of an in- 
vestigating committee of one coyote. The 
Captain was enthusiastic. At the " bang " of 
the pistol he would jump up, draw on his im- 
nicntionables with astonishing rapidity, and 
dash out into the icy night. We three would 
wake a moment to be real certain that it wasn't 
a band of Navajoes, performing a cold-blood- 
ed massacre upon us. and then turn over and 
go to sleep again. In the morning a skinned 
co\'ote invariably' iiung to the little pine by 
the fire, a sad but silent witness to its own 
cruel fate. 

The novelty of camping in the gulch began 
to wear off. The General talked of building a 
stbne house, but couldn't get anybody to go 
in with him. At last he gave it up, and, shoul- 
dering his trusty seventeen-shooter, would 
spend his days scouting around the vicinity, 
penetrating the mj'sterious gulches in the 
clift's, and climbing to the romantic spots on 
the plateau. 

The Captain, as a rule, would repose lan- 
guidly in the cushioned tent, dreaming of a 
fair one far beyond the Rocky Mountains, 
while the Pirate, with me for a companion, 
would climb the cliffs, and search for speci- 
mens of pottery and arrow-heads, scattered 
near and far, from the workshops of our inter- 
esting ancient Americans, the Sliinomos. 

One evening tlie Pirate rose and spoke. 

"Boys, these evenings are becoming abso- 
lutely monotonous. Now I propose, for mu- 
tual benefit, that we begin a series of lectures. 
I've been thinking of it all day, and conclude 
that there is an ample sufficiency of talent. 
What do you say.^" 

" Lectiues ! " we exclaimed, surprised. 

" Call them camp-stories, then, if you will." 

"No," put in Cap., "lectures. That's- 
good." 

Then the General spoke, glancing from im- 
der his broad-brimmed hat with his snapping 
blue eyes, and spurting a streain of tobacco 
juice at a live coal which rolled from the fire. 

"Well, gentlemen, I ain't much on this- 
science business — don't know much about 
your sermometers, and tlireeoddlite-;, and to- 
pogerphy, and that stuff, but may be I cart 
tell a story. I'll think of it, any way." 

After a consultation, it was decided that the 
first lecture in the "Rock Spring Course"' 
would be delivered by Mr. — ah — my Pirate; 
subject, " The Saints in the Valleys in the- 
Mountains." From very short hand notes it 
will be produced next month. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 




A Mormon Ball. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 

II — THE SAIWTS IN THE VALLEYS IN" 
THE MOUNTAINS. 

BY JUSTIN DALE 

SUPPER was over. The gentle breeze 
creeping through the gulch was cool and 
bracing, but not strong enough to whirl the 
smoke of the fire in our faces. And the fire, 
too, was a fierce one — one whose radiance 
seemed to shut us in tVom the surrounding 
darkness, and made us feel, after our hearty 
meal, indescribably comfortable. Above us 
arched the celestial dome, glittering, from the 
myriads of stars, with that icy brilliancy so 
peculiar to the Rocky Mountain region; while 
now and then a darting meteor reminded us 
that the apparently steady mass was an infi- 
nite number of definite bodies, each one per- 
forming its movements with a precision more 
perfect than the most delicate chronometer. 
And to think that we and our Latter-Day 
Saints, whom the Pirate would discuss this 
evening, were mere mites! But here is the 
Pirate to speak for himself, and break up my 
reverie. 

He had arisen before the little pine. He 
rubbed his hands, and began with really the 
air of a Sumner or a Schurz : — 



"Perhaps, gentlemen, you think my title 
of 'The Saints in the Valleys in the Moun- 
tains' a little peculiar; and so, I will admit, 
it is; but it is taken directly from the good 
Saints' own speech. Of course you are aware- 
that ' Mormon ' is a name applied to the Saints 
only by the outside world, on account of their 
adoption of the writings of one Mormon, the 
last of a tribe called the Nephites. The title- 
page of the work of Mormon is, ' The Book, 
of Mormon, an Account written by the Hand 
of Mormon upon Plates taken from the Plates 
of Nephi,' — then the testimony of the elevea 
witnesses, — ' translated by Joseph Smith, 
Jun.' Thus you see wh}' they are called Mor- 
mons, while they style themselves the Church 
of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and in 
their prayers call upon the Lord to bless 
them, ' the Saints in the valleys in the moun- 
tains.' Hence my title. 

"It would take me all night were I to tell 
you the minute history of the Saints; so I 
will only quote a few questions and answers 
from their catechism, in order that you may 
get an accurate idea of their origin. You will 
also perceive at once that a portion, at least, 
of the doctrine is as sound as any ever ex- 
pounded. Here is the book, which I fortu- 
nately have with me. It was published at 
Liverpool, England, in 1855, and is edited by 



113 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



Elder John Jaques. It begins by asking what 
your name is, who gave it to you, when you 
were born, &c. 

^. What duties should you perform? 

A. My duty to God, and my duty to my 
parents, and to all mankind. 

^. What is your duty towards your parents? 

A. To love and obey them. 

^. Why should you love and obey your 
parents? 

A. Because it is a command of God, and 
because they were the means of bringing me 
into the world : they nursed and fed me when 
I was a little babe, and now continually love 
me, and provide food, clothing, aud lodging 
for me : they watch over me in sickness, direct 
me in health, and teach me to be clean, neat, 
industrious, and orderly, so that when I have 
grown up I may be useful. 

^. What is your duty to all mankind? 
A. To love them, and to treat them with 
kindness. 

J^. There are now on the earth a great 
number of religious societies, each professing 
to be the church of Christ; which amongst 
them all is the true church? 

A. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter- 
Day Saints. 

" I quote next an answer. 

" 'On the night of the 2ist of September, 
1823, the angel Moroni appeared to him (J. 
Smith) three times, giving him much instruc- 
tion, and informing him that God had a work 
for him to do, which should cause his name 
to be good and evil spoken of among all peo- 
ple; also that a record, written upon gold 
plates, and giving an account of the ancient in- 
habitants of America, and the dealings of God 
with them, was deposited in a particular place 
in the earth, and with the record, two stones, 
in silver bows, which were anciently called 
the Urim and the Thummim, and by which 
God revealed intelligence to his people.'" 

The Pirate read many more, but my space 
will allow me to reproduce only the follow- 
ing:— 

^. Where and when was the Church of 
Christ organized by Joseph Smith? 

A. It was organized at Fayette, Seneca 
County, N. Y., on the 6th of April, 1830, and 
consisted of six members. 

^. Where will the New Jerusalem stand? 

A. In Jackson County, Missouri, where a 
temple, the site of which was dedicated in 
1831, will eventually be built. 



^. After the thousand 3'eais of peace, what 
will occur? (This thousand years is the Sec- 
ond advent of Christ.) 

A. Satan will be again let loose among the 
children of men, and will stir them up to war 
against the Saints; but he and they who will 
obey him will be overthrown, and will receive 
their final judgment. The heavens and the 
earth will pass away, and a new heavens and 
a new earth will be created, on which the glo- 
rified, immortal Saints will live and reign as 
kings and priests, throughout eternity. 

"You see, then," the Pirate continued, 
"our actual acquaintance with our sectarian 
friends begins about the year 1830, when Jo- 
seph Smith first began to expound the doc- 
trines of the Book of Mormon, and was im- 
mediately dubbed a ' Mormon.' The world is 
peopled by many vastly different classes; and 
it is not surprising that Joseph, aided by his 
brother Hiram and others, soon succeeded in 
gaining a permanent foothold. 

"Anxious to get beyond the trammellings 
of other sects, the Saints settled en masse at 
Nauvoo. For a time they flourished; but, as 
they say themselves, without persecution their 
creed would not conform to its pretensions. 
Accordingly, persecution gathered about and 
all at once burst upon them with a fury they 
could not resist. Joseph and Hiram were 
seized and thrown into Carthage jail, as dis- 
turbers of the public peace, to await their 
trial. 

'• Doubtless they would have been dealt with 
according to the laws; but as certain irregu- 
lar proceedings gained greater publicity, the 
fast-growing anger of the unbelievers was 
fanned to madness. Resolved not to await 
the action of slow-moving law, but to admin- 
ister what they considered justice, immedi- 
ately a mob hurried to the jail, and murdered 
Joseph and Hiram in cold blood. 

"It was no longer policy for the Saints tore- 
main in Missouri or Illinois, as every moment 
they were in danger of extermination. They 
had no leader ; but a young man, a Vermonter, 
by name Brigham Young, already president 
of the twelve apostles, placed himself for the 
time being in Joseph's shoes. He took charge 
of the whole outfit of Saints, Nauvoo Legion 
and all, and began to se_ek a new home for his 
people. For the Saints it was a ' ten-strike.' 
Probably, of all the men who then believed 
in Mormonism, or who have since embraced 
the doctrine, none would have used the clear 
judgment and good generalship that now 
give Brigham his notoriety. He perceived 
instantly that his people must be isolated if 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



"3 



they would prosper. He scanned the horizon 
for indications of a favorable land. Against 
the "western sky he thought he saw the appro- 
priate spot, and, very consistently and con- 
veniently, had a vision of a verdant, moun- 
tain-guarded valley, lying to westward, which 
he related to his followers. Then he took a 
few picked men, and pushed forward until he 
saw the valley of the Great Salt Lake, when 
he returned for his followers. 

" As his selected domam belonged to Mex- 
ico, he did not anticipate any disturbance ; not, 
at least, until the Latter-Day Saints had ob- 
tained so firm a foundation that they could, 
from their valleys in the mountains, repel all 
ordinary assaults. 

•' Confiding themselves to their God, the 
Mormons set out on their pilgrimage, and 
spent the winter of 1846-7 near the present 
site of Council Bluffs. They left behind sure 
promises of a return at some future date, to 
finish the temple which had been begun in 
Jackson County, and received in return the 
sneers and curses of the impetuous Missou- 
rians. They weathered the storms of the 
winter in truly a miserable condition, all, at 
one time, almost starving to death. Indeed, 
they would have quite gone had it not been 
for an interposition of Providence, who di- 
rected countless numbers of quails straight 
through the encampment. 

"With ease the fowls were caught and 
slaughtered on every hand. The old women, 
even, rendered by hunger too feeble to move 
about, reachgd forth from their wretched bedt, 
and clutching the birds, quickly despatched 
them. Thus it was with tearful joy that they 
hailed the invigorating spring-time once 
again, and started to complete their weari- 
some march across the western rocks to their 
promised land. They had accidents, and were 
beset with innumerable dangers; but the ac- 
cidents to individuals were speedily cured by 
their ' laying on of hands,' by the elders, while 
voices from above guided their footsteps 
through paths of safety. 

" Speaking of the laying on of hands reminds 
me of a story told by Isaac Haight of a cir- 
cumstance which occurred on the plains. A 
little boy fell from his father's wagon, and 
two wheels of the heavj'^ vehicle passed over 
his chest. He was literally crushed. Many 
people would have consigned him to death ; 
but the Mormons were not of that class. Thej' 
placed the poor little fellow comfortably in 
the wagon, entreated him to hold his faith, 
and called a council of elders. Hands were 
laid on, and reconstruction commenced. As 
8 



the praying became more powerful, the re- 
action was greater, until one could plainly 
hear the bones crack and snap as they assumed 
their original positions. In a very short time 
the child was again playing on the wagon- 
seat, and the caravan pursued its way as though 
nothing of consequence had occurred. All 
this — " 

" Now, see here, my Christian friend : I hate 
to interrupt you; but that won't go down. 
You stifle me. I viust have a chance to catch 
a breath. Ha, ha, ha! " laughed Cap, and we 
all joined the chorus. 

" Well, boys, I don't care whether you be- 
lieve it or not ; but those are the very facts that 
Isaac Haight related, asserting that he was an 
eye-witness, and that it was but one of a hun- 
dred, ay, of a thousand, equally miraculous 
cases which had happened among the true 
Saints. He stated further, that any one af- 
flicted could, bj having faith, be made whole 
in a similar manner." 




Brigham Young's House 



He looked around. 

"Go ahead," said the General; "we've 
nothing more to say." 

" Then, to proceed: besides the hardships 
of plains travelling, our pilgrims had to keep 
a constant outlook for hostile Indians, and be 
ever ready to check a stampede. One fine 
day, however (July 34, 1847), they found them- 
selves beside what is now called City Creek; 
and, like Columbus and Cortez, and other 
pioneers, Brigham's first action was to return 
thanks to the Almighty for their safe arrival 
in their ' Eden.' (How much it resembles an 
Eden !) Provisions began to become a scarce 
article, and they turned their attention to 
hunting something to eat. They found a 
species of lily, the bulb of whicli was eaten 
by the Indians, and called ^ sego.' These grew 
abundantly, and upon them they depended 
mainly for food. In addition were a wild 
cabbage and numerous varieties of roots and 



114 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



herbs, which they collected in large quantities, 
in preparation for the coming winter. 

'* They labored unceasingly to get all in order 
before the winter; but the few short months 
slipped rapidly by, and, almost before they 
were aware, cutting blasts swept down from 
the great Wasatch range, buried under a thick 
blanket of snow. They quailed some before 
the dark prospect, though all did their best, 
until their dogged perseverance, and faith in 
their revelations and prophecies, carried them 
through. 

" Before another winter could catch them 
unprovided, the city by the Great Salt Lake 
had assumed a definite shape, and the State 
of Deseret flung its banners to the breeze over 
Brigham's throne. I say ' throne,' for it was 
nothingelse. Was Brigham — now appointed 
by divine revelation the prophet, seer, reve- 
•ator, president, and glory of the Church of 
Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and elected 
governor of the State of Deseret by his sub- 
jects — aught but a king.? Who would dare 
to question his revelations.'' Who would dare 
to utter the slightest hint against the monarch 
of this theocracy.'' Some there were, subse- 
quently, who dared; and, if we are to believe 
confessions, the Destroying Angels quickly tied 
their troublesome tongues. 

" The little settlement rapidly acquired a 
basis. A stream of immigrants poured in, 
and one by one the adobe huts shot up in the 
clear sunshine like toadstools. Prospects 
brightened. The missionaries in Europe and 
in the States pictured with charming colors 
the vast fertile garden in the valleys in the 
mountains, and hundreds of beings, who could 
hardly earn their daily bread in the old coun- 
tries, were enraptured by the glowing picture, 
and eagerly embraced the creed which should 
so speedily transport them from their drudgery 
to an almost earthly paradise. Therefore they 
came to the valleys in the mountains. Dis- 
tance had, indeed, lent enchantment to the 
view, for on closer sight they found no varie- 
gated garden-land, but a rugged, barren wil- 
derness. Did not some of them heartily wish 
themselves back to their old homes .'' Possibly, 
and probably. But, could they have returned, 
many would not have done so after a few 
months' residence in Mormondom, for there 
were no influences to counteract the teachings 
of the Church, constantly sounding in their 
ears. The fact was, that they began to think 
that the doctrines were right, and that this 
was their destiny. Most of the converts were 
narrow-minded people, and Mormonism, ap- 
pealing to superstition, closed about them with 



au unyielding grasp. Thus most of the poor 
creatures became downright Mormons, simply 
because they could not help it. They had not 
the moral power, nor the intellectual training, 
to resist its supernatural ideas. 

"After the settlement of Salt Lake Valley, 
scouts were sent out with small exploring 
parties into the surrounding unknown regions. 
Sites for new settlements were selected, and 
gradually the territory began to assume a civ- 
ilized appearance." 

The Pirate then told how the State of Des- 
eret was ceded, with other territory, to the 
United States by Mexico, and was entitled 
"Utah; "how Brigham was appointed gov- 
ernor, and served until 1857; and many other 
interesting things, which I am obliged to 
skip for want of space. 

" Until the Union Pacific Railroad poured 
its flood of ' Gentiles ' into the Mormon realm, 
something like hatred existed between certain 
classes. It is asserted that no unbeliever's 
life was worth much if he uttered a word 
against Brigham or the Church. Brigham, it 
is claimed, once delivered a sermon in which 
he swore that he would send all opposers 
' cross lots to hell.' To facilitate his move- 
ments, he organized a band of ' Destroying 
Angels,' with Bill Hickman at their head. The 
latter has since made a confession, in which 
he accuses Brigham of authorizing some of the 
most diabolical deeds. But there are many 
reasons for believing that the confession is 
merely a fabrication, made to sell. At any 
fate, what would one believe from a man who 
confesses such cowardly deeds of murder.'' 

"John D. Lee and Isaac Haight are other 
Mormons notorious for their alleged wicked- 
ness. The loathsome tragedy of Mountain 
Meadows, it is said, was enacted under their 
direction. Lee boldly asserts that he had 
nothing to do with it; says he is a kind-heart- 
ed man, and cried like a child when he found 
that his brethren were bent upon exterminat- 
ing the audacious Missourians. When we 
compare this afi'air with the action of the Mis- 
sourians against the Mormons in early days, 
we see that it is but natural that the latter 
should thirst for revenge. They took ample 
vengeance! Although Lee claims innocence, 
he swears he will not be taken, as it would 
expose members who ' did the deed through 
their great zeal in serving the Church.' There- 
fore he is constantly armed with a seven- 
shooter and a seventeen-shooting rifle ; and 
though I camped by^his farm for three weeks, 
I never once found him oft' his guard. The 
click of a gun-lock would draw his eyes in- 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



"5 



stantaneously. Once, when I borrowed his 
only saddle to ride out to the settlement, he 
said, as I mounted, ' Tell the boys ' (my com- 
panions who remained) ' it would be no use 
to try to take me, for among these rocks I 
could defy an army.' We could have taken 
him a hundred times before that; but that 
wasn't what we were there for — " 

Bang'. A pistol-shot. 

"There's your confounded wolf-trap ! Let 
it go now ; I want to go on. — Polygamy comes 
next. As you know, that is the most objec- 
tionable feature of Mormonism. It does not 
belong properly to the Book of Mormon, but 
was an afterthought — I mean, a subsequent 
revelation. For a long time it held its own 
with all, some of the Saints investing heavily, 
John D. Lee, of whom I spoke, having had 
some sixty wives and seventy-two children. 
As a rule, three or four wives was the maxi- 
mum. 

" At present polygamy is on the decline with 
all who care anything about the opinion of 
the world; but what can you expect of people 
reared in those valleys in the mountains, 
where schools are very little known.? Think 
of young men and women who can scarcely 
write their own names ; never saw a railroad ; 
don't know whether London or the United 
States is the bigger, and are taught to believe 
that those familiar cliffs and mountains are 
their property, with which the United States 
government has no right to interfere; and 
that ' Brother' Brigham is the being endowed 
with unlimited powers, whom they must look 
up to and worship. And it is not only the 
younger class who know nothing, but most of 
the older ones know still less. To be sure, 
there are some ' smart ' men in Utah, but 
they are always sure to have a high and lucra- 
tive position. 

"To outsiders the Mormon women always 
endeavor to appear cheerful ; but to any one 
who can sympathize with their woes, and gain 
their confidence, they will pour forth tales 
most awful. 

"Many of the writers on the Mormon ques- 
tion have seen only its bright side in Salt 
Lake City and surroundings. One can only 
get at the reverse side by travelling south 
among the poorer classes. Many a wretched 
woman is sorry enough that she ever left her 
native land, but she can never return. 

"Some of our Mormon 'brethren' have 
more wives than they can support, especially 
if they happen to be constitutionally weak. 
So the wives have to support themselves, and, 
if they prove good hands at it, their hubbies 



also. Many poor families in Utah live upon 
green corn, melons, and squashes during the 
autumn, while at other times they get along 
the best way they can. Sometimes they have 
flour and corn meal, and sometimes none. 
Most of them have cattle, which can graze on 
'the range,' and therefore cost nothing to 
keep; so, however poor, if a Mormon family 
have a cow, they get all the sweet cream and 
fresh butter they want. 




The Tabernacle. 

"Coffee, tea, and strong drinks are set forth 
as injurious in the Book of Mormon, which is 
very convenient for those who cannot afford 
to buy any. Those who can afford it disre- 
gard the advice ; those who cannot gracefully 
accept the other alternative. I always noticed 
one thing, though, in a certain town where I 
happened to be once, viz., that if anybody 
was sick, some one would come and beg or 
buy coffee, or tea, or sugar from our rations, 
as no medicines could be found within eighty 
miles. And if any came to our camp, they 
would generally drink our tea and coffee to 
a greater extent than any one else. Wine, 
too, is made in great quantities in 'Dixie,' 
and sold or exchanged cheaply, the result be- 
ing most shameful drunkenness of the younger 
people at certain periods, — the young men, I 
mean. 'Dixie,' I would say, is a name ap- 
plied to the lower valley of the Virgen River; 
and apropos., I will singyou the song ' Called 
to Dixie,' which I have often sung before, 
but which will fit in just here first rate : — 

Once I lived on Cotton-wood, 

And owned a little farm ; 
But now I'm called to Dixie, 

Which gives me much alarm. 
To raise the corn and cotton 

I right away must go ; 
The reason why they called on me 

I'm sure I do not know. 

I yoked up Jim and Bolly, 

All for to make a start 
To leave my house and garden, 

Which almost broke my he:irt. 



ii6 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



We rolled anng quite slowly. 

And often looked behind ; 
For the sand and rocks of Dixie 

Kept running through my mind 

At last we reached the Black Ridge, 

Where we broke our wagon down ; 
We couldn't find a carpenter, 

For we were twenty miles from town. 
I cut a clumsy cedar pole 

And fixed an awkward slide ; 
My wagon m« so heavy ' 

That Betsey could not ride. 

When Betsey was a-walking 

[ told her to take care ; 
But all upon a sudden 

She struck a prickly pear I 
Then she began to blubber out. 

As loud as she could bawl, 
' O, if I was back on Cotton-wood 

I would not come at all ! ' 

At last we reached the Sandy, 

Where we could not budge at all ; 
Poor old Jim and Bolly 

Began to puflF and lolL 
I ripped and swore a little bit, 

But couldn't make the route. 
For myselfj my team, and Betsey, 

Were all of us gi'n out. 

At length we reached Washington, 

Where we stopped a little while 
To see if the April showers 

Would make the Virgen smile. 
But O, we were mistaken, 

And so we went away ; 
For the red hills of November 

Look just the same in May. 

I brought this old coat with me, 

About two years ago ; 
And where I'll get another 

I'm sure I do not know. 
If Providence protects me 

All from the wind aud wet. 
These times me nor Betsey 

Never will forget. 

My shirt was colored with dock-root, 

A grease-wood for a set ; 
I'm sure it will all fade out 

If it once gets wet. 
They say they have fotlnd madder, 

And indigo so blue ; 
It all turned out a humbug — 

The story was not true. 

It is so sad and dreary — 

There's nothing here to cheer 
Except prophetic sermons 

We very often hear. 
They hand them out by dozens. 

Prove them by the Book. 
I had rather have six roastin' ears, 

And stay at home and cook. 

I have bad the chills and fever 

Until I'm almost dead. 
'Twill be seven weeks next Sunday 

Since I have tasted bread. 
Carrot tops and lucern 

We have enough to eat. 
I'd like to have my diet changed 

Tc buckwheat cakes and meat 



My wagon went for sorglium seed ; 

To get a little bread, 
Poor old Jim and Bolly 

Long ago are dead. 
None are left but me and Betsey 

To hoe the cotton tree. 
Let Heaven reward you, Dixyites, 

Wherever you may be. 

" You see, then, that all was not lovely in 
Dixie in early days. The composer of the 
song is now enjoying his old age in Salt Lake 
City. Clothing was not as plentiful as it 
might have been, and I know of one family 
who even now go barefooted and in rags for 
nine months out of the year." 

The Pirate then spoke of the mineral re- 
sources of Utah ; the mines, and the miners; 
reasons why the Mormons did not early work 
in the mines, &c., all of which I am obliged 
to omit for fear of crowding my columns. 
Next, he told of the industry of the Mormons, 
for which I shall find room. 

" The Saints are generally termed a very 
industrious people. I will admit that some 
are, and again I will admit that some are 
lazier than Digger Indians. They are indus- 
trious, but not energetic. Those who are en- 
dowed with energy are sure to be bishops, 
elders, first counsellors, or something or other, 
where they will have the handling of the 
tithing, and are the corner-stones of the 
church. 

" This tithing is a sort of tax upon each pro- 
ducer, to defray the expenses of the govern- 
ment (i. e., the church), and in this case the 
word means a tenth part of each family's 
earnings or produce. Thus, if a man raises 
ten bushels of corn, he must deliver the tith- 
ing, or one bushel, to the bishop of his town. 
From the store thus formed the bishop draws, 
to entertain any travellers who happen along, 
as, he being the head man of the town, his house 
is as a hotel ; all strangers are directed to it, 
as a rule, to ' put up.' Almost invariably he 
gets paid for his services by Gentiles, and it 
is not surprising that, betwixt it all, a bishop 
is always the wealthiest man in a town ; and 
without difBculty you can single out his house 
from the others by its greater proportions, 
finer finish, and better architecture, unless 
the town happens to be the residence of a 
' president,' when his house will be the finest. 
So now, if any of you ever get into a Mor- 
mon town (as you will soon) where there is 
no hotel, steer for the best-looking house you 
see, and j'ou will not miss the bishop's, where 
you will always find the best to be had. Per- 
haps a dance will be in progress as you ride 
'.ip, if it 1"= a frontier Eettlen:ient v;here thsy 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



117 



have no large public buildings; though gener- 
ally their fandangoes are held in the school- 
houses and meeting-houses, it being no sin, 
as dancing is a part of the creed. I will tell 
you about a dance I went to one Christmas 
night. It was held in a little stone building, 
which served as school-house and meeting- 
house, temple and tabernacle, city hall and 
a rendezvous for trading Navajoes; it was fif- 
teen feet by thirty, in width and length, and 
some twenty feet high. It was situated in one 
corner of an old fort or stockade ; and its four 
windows, opening into the arena of the fort, 
glowed with an inviting brilliancy upon the 
night in question, when, after our ride through 
the chill wind, we galloped up. Strains of vi- 
olins came merrily through the cracks ; flitting 
brms told that the fun had already begun. 
Dismounting, we entered. 

"Two sets were all the floor would allow in 
action at once, and they were skimming 
around lively enough. All round on seats sat 
young ladies and youths, old ladies and old 
gentlemen, with intervening gradations. 
Each of us received a number, on entering, 
according to the rules ; for as but sixteen per- 
sons could occupy the floor at once, the male 
attendants were called up in regular succes- 
sion by their numbers. You know I am al- 
ways backward in such dashing assemblages; 
so I retired to a corner to watch how things 
progressed. The room was bare, with board 
floor and glaring rafters, while across the lat- 
ter lay a row of muskets, ready for an emer- 
gency. Darkness was dispersed by three tal- 
low candles stuck on boards against the wall, 
a kerosene lamp, and a roaring pine log in a 
huge fireplace. 

"The violins kept up a constant flow of 
music, interspersed with — 'Ladies, change!' 
'Gentlemen, forward ! ' and the like, while the 
dancers, throwing off all formality, entered into 
the spirit of the occasion with a vehemence 
never seen in a fashionable ball-room. Some 
burly fellows would 'come in from without just 
as their numbers were called. The room was 
warm. They doffed their coats instantly, 
grasped a partner with a word or two, and 
away they went, commencing with a bowing 
salute, varying and indescribable. 

"The fair damsels, too! clad in neat calico, 
ladiant with smiles, their hair anointed with 
delicately perfumed pomades (butter!) until 
it resembled patent-leather, and formed on 
each temple an exquisite ' beau-catcher,' with 
red, yellow, blue, green, indigo, orange, and 
violet ribbons fluttering in the local whirl- 
wind, were simply gorgeous. They sailed 
around like nymj^hs from fairy realm." 



Then the Pirate told us of the farming fa- 
cilities, the rivers, the lakes, and the moun- 
tains of Utah, and concluded with the follow- 
ing:— 

" About 1869, Orson Pratt invented what 
they call the Deseret Alphabet. The Book of 
Mormon was printed in it, and it was taught 
in the schools, with the view of making it the 
sole system of the state. But it proved too 
much of a problem for the majority of the 
brethren, and so it dropped into obscurity, 
and I only obtained this volume through a 
friend in the ring. It is merely a system of 
phonography, with new signs, and as the signs 
are all very complicated, it cannot be written 
without great labor. 

" With another word I am done. The Saints 
have many faults, but they have been dogged 
around enough to compensate. They have 
utilized these valleys in the mountains, which 
would not have been done for years hence. 
Then let us treat them like friends, hoping 
that the problem of the extermination of po- 
lygamy may be solved with satisfaction to all 
— by a new departure ; or, in other words, by 
a revelation from on high." 

The Pirate sat down. It was agreed that 
no remarks should be made ; so for a few 
moments we all sat staring blankly at the 
glowing embers, until Cap, starting up, said 
he must go and get his wolf. 

The chronometer indicated twelve o'clock. 
It was time to "turn in;" so, after drawing 
closer to the fire, to get thoroughly warmed, 
we were about to retire, when the General 
spoke of our next lecture. 

" O, yes; who'll follow me?" asked the 
Pirate. 

"I will," exclaimed Cap, as he came into 
the light of the fire and threw down the car- 
cass of a wolf. "I will. Subject: The 
Shinomos, or the Artists of Nature." 

" Very good," we said. 

NoTK. Cotton-wood is a creek just south of Salt Lake. 
Mormons are "called" from one settlement to another. 
Virgen is th-e Rio Virgen. Grease-wood is a bush similar to 
the sage-brush. Lucem is a species of clover. 

A man named Rigdon attempted to become the perma- 
nent president of the church, but was defeated by Brigham 
Young. 




ii8 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 




ShijsOmos at Home 



THE CAMP m THE GULOH. 

m — THE SHIT70M0S, OK THE ABTISTS 
OF JSTATUKE. 

BY JUSTIN DALE. 

" /'~\NCE upon a time, mj friends," began 
^^ the Captain, in that old-fashioned strain 
which used to give such a deep mystery to our 
childish fairy tales, and which now caused us 
to prick up our ears for a lecture tinged with 
a coloring of romance; "yes, once upon a 
time, possibly long centuries ago, a far differ- 
ent class of beings from what we now find 
here inhabited these cliffs and mountains, 
and trod the ground round this very camp- 
fire, as is proved by the remains of their 
houses, which we find scattered around, and 
the abundance of arrow-h.ead chips and broken 
pottery. These people were called Shinom.os, 
meaning 'wise men,'because they were versed, 
to a certain extent, in agriculture and the arts. 
They were not as highly civilized as the old 
Toltecs must have been, or as the Aztecs were ; 
nevertheless, they were a remarkable race, 
and at one time may have been subject to the 
Aztec rule, though dwelling so far from the 
capital. Their intercourse, however, with the 
Aztecs, is doubtful ; for we find their picture- 
writing less systematic, and no traces of any 



other instruments than those which they man- 
ufactured from wood and stone, while the Az- 
tecs wrought bronze very extensively. 

" Like the latter, they have gone to their last 
resting-place, leaving behind but a remnant, 
who have gathered together in the ' Seven 
Ancient Cities,' and, while defending them- 
selves against the attacks of enemies, are be- 
coming each day less and less. A few more 
short years, and the only proof the tourist 
will find of their existence will be the crum- 
bling ruins of their towns, the ruined dwell- 
ings and towns now scattered over the south- 
west, and the mysterious hieroglyphics which 
are inscribed on the rocky tablets, proclaiming 
a wonderful tale, that silently petitions for a 
translator. 

" Distinctly I remember the first I ever saw 
of this peculiar writing. We were camped 
on the bank of Green River, at the northern 
extremity of the Uintah Valle3^ Two or three 
hundred yards back of camp arose a cliff of 
homogeneous sandstone, some two hundred 
feet high, and upon its smooth base the geol- 
ogist discovered som.e figures utterly incom- 
prehensible. He came to camp and spoke to 
several of us, saying that he had made an in- 
teresting discovery, and if we would follow 
him he would show it to us. Leading the way 
to the foot of the clift", he stopped. It was 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



119 



evening, and growing dusky; so at first we 
did not perceive the inscriptions, but thought 
Stoneman had stopped to examine some di- 
versity of strata with a geologist's eye, and 
would soon go on. Instead, he turned, and 
smiled mysteriously. My companion said, 
' Well ! ' while I, at the instant catching sight 
of the carvings, uttered an ' O-o-o-h ! ' and 
sprang closer, with a ' Who do you think could 
have done this? ' 

" Never having seen anything similar, we 
were fascinated. We searclied along, and 
found others of a like rude nature ; then, as the 
darkness grew deeper, our steps were directed 
towards camp, there to discuss the strange 
pictures, to determine, if possible, who had 
been the artists. 

" Indians must have made them; for what 
object would a white man have in chiselling 
such stuff on the rocks? we reasoned. And 
then came the question, ' By what Indians 
were they made ? ' This was the Ute's country ; 
therefore it occurred to us that they were the 
artists. If they could, they must solve the 
riddle; and we resolved to button-hole the 
first red-skin we came across, and entreat him 
to explain. Armed with a sketch and a nega- 
tive, there appeared but one difficulty; and 
that was, no one could speak or understand a 
word of Ute, except Bothwell, who had been 
'rf)ut west ' once before, and, somewhere, had 
picked up the phrase, 'Anna nea Pi Ute 
inch, cotch am bana,' which he carefully de- 
fined as meaning, * What do you call this in 
Pi Ute?' His right there was none to dis- 
pute ; so we learned to speak the sentence 
fluently, and tried to feel satisfied that it was 
what we wanted. 

" A sharp lookout was kept for more inscrip- 
tions, and for our interpreter that was to be. 
He came even sooner than was anticipated; 
for one morning, as we were eating breakfast 
and chatting quietly, a shout warned us of 
some one's approach, and an Indian, with a 
' How-how,' rode into our camp. He was be- 
decked with paint, and dressed in his finest 
suit, at least in a very gaudy array of buck- 
skin, red flannel, and beads, and, dismount- 
ing, squatted upon a little knoll, just as though 
he was one of the family. How many more 
there might be at his heels we could not tell, 
and, as long as they kept away, we did not care. 

" We offered our beaming savage some 
breakfast, which he caused to vanish as though 
he had not had a morsel to eat since the hour 
he was born. Then telling us, by means of 
gestures, that he would meet us farther down, 
he jumped on his steed, and was off". 



"After starting, we had not gone far before 
we came upon his 'wicky-up' (you know what 
a ' wicky-up ' is — a little shelter constructed 
of boughs) and his familj'. The latter was 
composed of his squaw, two horses, and a 
small dog. Now, in the midst of his posses- 
sions, was the time to get him to solve our 
problem; and our artist produced his sketches. 
Presenting them at the aboriginal, he ex- 
claimed, with acute accent, ' Anna nea Pi Ute 
inch, cotch am bana?' 

"The Indian took the sheets, gazed at the 
little black figures solemnly, and muttered 
something in his dialect. 

"'Pshaw! you didn't say it right,* said 
Bothwell. ' Here, let me talk to him. — Anna 
nea i7ich^ (tapping the paper with his finger) 
' Pi Ute, cotch am bana?' 

" Quietly laughing, the Indian said nothing, 
though he must have thought we were a pack 
of idiots to talk so much about a bit of paper, 
that to him seemed but good to wrap a ' ciga- 
rito.' Bothwell was nonplussed. He walked 
off" without a word. The artist exclaimed, in 
disgust, ' Confound him, he don't know his 
own language!' and, snatching the papers, 
returned them to his portfolio. It was a for- 
lorn hope. Either the savage knew nothing 
about the pictures, or he did not understand 
us. I have come to the conclusion that both 
causes produced the difficulty, and we left 
him unceremoniously to himself, his family, 
and a package of smoking-tobacco. 

"Not until all this passed did it enter our 
heads that the designs were the work of the 
ancient inhabitants of this region — the Shi- 
nomos. Ruins of their dwellings, we knew, 
were scattered throughout Utah ; but as yet 
we had ourselves seen none. We began to 
see that no one else would have placed the 
writing on the rock; for, if the Aztecs were 
so proficient in picture-writing that they could, 
in a few moments, record passing events so 
minutely, it would not be strange that the 
Shinomos, an allied tribe, should be guilty 
of writing their history, or the history of cer- 
tain 'clans,' upon the rocks near by their 
dwellings. The Shinomos, then, were the 
artists; and we sailed on down the great river, 
ever alert for new proofs of their habitation. 
These came in succession, rapidly, and at the 
same time grew more interesting." 

I expunge a portion of the lecture, where 
the Captain told about several discoveries of 
little importance, such as fragments of pot- 
tery, &c. 

"No new signs then occurred until we 
reached Stillwater caiion, when, one night, — 



I20 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



or evening, — as the photographer was scram- 
bling among the rocks, he discovered, far up 
the side of the cliff, some funny little huts, built 
between shelving rocks. He called down for 
those who had leisure to come up and see what 
he had found. I, for one, climbed up; and, as 
everything likely to prove Shinomo began 
to be of all-absorbing interest to me, I was 
delighted. 

"We raked over the dry dust of ages, it 
m \y have been, lying inside the huts, and 
found various little proofs that they had, at 
some earlier date, been the homes of human 
beings. The most striking were a few small 
corn-cobs, dry, and almost as hard as stone. 
These we captured and carried down to camp, 
when we had sufficiently inspected the build- 
ings. The colonel had also returned from a 
tour of discovery, having found on a flat 
point near the river, and some fifty feet above 
it, the ruins of several well-defined houses. 
Around these the ground was strewn with the 
fragments of pottery, &c., showing that they 
must either have lived here a long time, or 
been rather rough with their china. 

"Towering on all sides were the almost 
vertical walls, rising about twelve hundred 
feet; and at first sight one would have sup- 
posed it impossible for any one to get out. 
The colonel, however, had found an easy 
path, in one direction, to within three or four 
hundred feet of the top, when a perpendicular 
ledge, over twenty feet in height, caused them 
to halt. At the bottom .of the ledge there was 
a narrow talus, or slanting mass of debris. 
Following this around, as it aftorded a firm 
foothold, and appeared strangely compact, 
they came (there were two others with him) 
upon several dry, pitch-pine poles, braced 
firmly in a crevice. White with age, they 
had, doubtless, in this dry climate, stood there 
many and many a long year. 

"Knowing that the pition pine decays very 
slowly, and these poles seeming quite strong, 
one of the little party tested them by climb- 
ing up, while the two others braced themselves 
below to catch him, if the timber should give 
way. Then twilight began to steal upon them, 
and they had to hasten down, first, however, 
determining to follow the path out on the 
morrow. 

" Around the camp-fire that night we had a 
good talk about the Shinomos; and the situ- 
ation was somewhat romantic. As one of the 
boys observed, we could almost feel the magic 
presence of the departed race, and see them 
cultivating their little patches of corn, work- 
ing diligently at their stone arrow-heads, 



knives, &c., or skipping from rock to rock in 
the ascent of the cliff. And in imagination 
we saw something else. We saw the brave 
little clan hemmed in on all sides, and show- 
ers of arrows falling thick and fast from the 
verge of the cliff, black with the enemies of 
the Shinomos, with the oppressors of the 
'wise men.' These foes of the mild-natured 
civilians were rapidly driving them from the 
country-, and appropriating it themselves; 
and now all that are left are the Moquis. The 
colonel, having spent soma- time among the 
inhabitants of the Seven Ancient Cities, re- 
lated many curious things of them. Their 
towns are built on high cliffs, called ^tnesac' 
by the Spaniards, in order that they can bet- 
ter defend themselves and their flocks, and 
afar off discern the approaching enemy. The 
houses can be entered only from the flat roofs, 
which are gained by long ladders. In case 
of an attack, the ladders can be drawn up, 
and the town resolved into a comparatively 
formidable fortress. 




There stood a House, 

" One town is built on what miglit almost 
be termed an island, accessible only by a nar- 
row isthmus, or causeway, whose sides make 
a precipitous plunge of several hundred feet. 
Upon the approach of the enemy, the town- 
side of this passage was all that it was necessa- 
ry to guard ; and there a handful of men could 
repel a host. A small band of Navajoes, — 
numbering some twenty-five, — by making a 
charge, once attempted to break through this 
barrier, and gain the heart of the town ; but 
their bleaching bones on the rocks below are 
ample testimony ©f their success, and serve 
as a fair warning to future operators. 

"Their flocks of sheep were in constant 
danger of being driven off by the Navajoes 
and the Apaches; so corrals were constructed 
of stone; and upon the slightest warning the 
shepherds hurried the flocks up the cliffs; and 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



121 



once in the corrals, they were safe. Below 
the towns, by means of irrigation, corn, cot- 
ton, peaches, and garden vegetables are cul- 
tivated. 

"The agricultural work is done almost en- 
tirely by the men, while the women remain 
in the vicinity of the houses, and prepare the 
meals, weave, or do some other light work. 

"Usually their repast consists of a pot of 
soup, from which they help themselves in the 
most convenient manner. As an accompani- 
ment, they have a peculiar bread, called '^e- 
kee,^ which is made from corn flour, in thin 
sheets, resembling somewhat the coarse vari- 
ety of wrapping-paper, and varying in color, 
some being red, some blue, some green, all 
according to the color of the corn from which 
it was manufactured. 

"The sheets are packed away, for keeping, 
in rolls; and these rolls, to the Moquis, or the 
Shinomos, are the staff of life, just as our 
loaves of wheaten bread are our staff. 

" When not otherwise employed, the women 
spend their time at the loom. And you think 
it strange, no doubt, that such savages should 
have looms; but their loom does not resem- 
ble the intricate piece of machinery we find 
in our factories, for it is but the embryo of 
that. It is merely a heavy frame, upon which 
the foundation-threads are stretched, while 
the dusky weaver dexterously passes his bob- 
bin — in the shape of a long bow — in and 
out between the threads, in the process of 
'filling.' Upon this rude machine they con- 
struct some really beautiful blankets, which 
bring a high price among white traders, on 
account of their solidity and durability. Many 
of them are so closely woven that the hardest 
rain is shed as from a piece of sheet iron. 
And, after all, they are more like sheet iron 
than anything else when they get wet, for 
the fibres become rigid as wire. 

" An industrious Moqui will sometimes 
spend months of steady labor upon a single 
blanket, weaving an endless variety of figures 
in gayly-colored wool; and, when at last it is 
completed, he journeys into the adjacent land 
of the Apaches, or the Navajoes, or theCoho- 
ninis, or the Mormons, and disposes of it for 
the small consideration of a horse or two. 
Besides blankets, they weave sashes, stock- 
ings, garters, and similar articles, which they 
trade profitably to other Indians when they 
get tired of them. 

" Their ceremonies and dances are impres- 
sive and interesting; but strangers are not 
always allowed to witness them. Their re- 
ligious rites arc in keeping with the strange 



creatures themselves. What seems almost id- 
iotic to a stranger is a foot-race, performed 
each morning by certain individuals for about 
an hour, around concentric large circles. An 
Indian, almo.st nude, will come out, and start 
around the largest circle at the top of his 
speed, and will keep up that rate until.the time 
to stop, when he retires. 

" Worship of idols is conducted in the un- 
der-ground temples, or kivas, where the holy 
fire is kept burning, and where are all their 
records and paintings. 

"At present these children of Nature are 
watched over by a fatherly Indian agent and 
his son, who are fast getting an accumulation 
of paltry dollars in that most mysterious man- 
ner so well known to all Indian agents. These 
guards of the Moquis effect their purpose, for 
one way, after this manner : Large quantities 
of cotton goods, tin ware, boots and shoes, 
traps, axes, &c., are annually sent to this 
agency to be distributed amongst our aborigi- 
nal citizens. But it happens, and perhaps 
quite luckily for their happiness, that they do 
not like boots and shoes, tin pans, and some 
other things; consequently, instead of wast- 
ing such valuables upon savages, the ingenious 
and noble-hearted white men have struck up 
a brisk trade with some of the Mormons, whom 
the Pirate told about; and now each autumn 
a well-laden pack-train winds its way to the 
settlements of the Saints, conducted usually 
by the church's agent for southern Indians. 

" As government goods are always better 
and less expensive than any others, the traffic 
is one which pays heavily on the capital in- 
vested. But I find that I have wandered some- 
what from my strict subject; and so I will go 
back to our camp near the ruins. 

" When the colonel had finished telling us 
those facts about the Seven Ancient Cities, 
we turned in, some to dream of the rehabita- 
tion of the gulch by the phantoms of the wise 
men, and some to sleep the sleep of the right- 
eous. To me it seemed but a few moments 
before I awoke to find the sky above faintly 
illuminated by the first gray streaks of dawn. 
It was not long before all were up, and then 
our plain breakfast was disposed of in haste, 
for we were anxious to give the gulch a thor- 
ough inspection. Two or three of us picked 
our way to the ledge, or table, whereon had 
stood the Shinomo hamlets, and from there 
watched several others climb the cliff, and 
help each other, like pygmies, up the ledge, 
that to us appeared but a stepping-stone. Then 
they disappeared round a projection, and we 
turned to investigate the ruins. 



122 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



" The houses were almost gone, only one 
having walls of any height, though all were 
well defined in form. This best-preserved 
house was about twelve feet wide, and twenty 
feet long. How high it had been it was im- 
possible to estimate, as but six feet of the 
walls stood; though it is probable that it was 
but one story, having been built rapidly, and 
with danger lurking close at hand. We found 
in a narrow crevice remains of a rude stair- 
way to the river, built, most likely, to obtain 
water for household purposes. The brightest 
of the chalcedonic chips and the prettiest 
pieces of pottery we collected, and then sat 
down in the shade of the large ruin to study 
the silent home of the departed race. Here 
on this very spot the children had sported in 
their innocence, and made the solemn, silent 
canon resound by their merry laughter and 
wild shouts in their musical language. The 
fragments of pottery, ground round, and 
punched with a hole, which we had found ly- 
ing beside the ruins, had, in all probability, 
been formed by the children as toys. They 
had played with them, and tossed them around, 
and thought what wonderful things they had 
made ; or had pretended to ' keep house ' up un- 
der the sheltering ledges, just as you may have 
done many a time in a pleasanter locality. 

"And below waved the field of yellow corn, 
sending aloft the music of its rustling leaves, 
while the dark-skinned harvester plied his 
knife of stone. In the houses, the fairer sex 
were grinding corn to make bread, or shaking 
the life out of some little brazen-lunged ras- 
cal, who had ventured too near the edge of the 
cliff, and risked tumbling over. 

"All these things passed vividly before us, 
and we almost began to imagine ourselves in 
some foreign clime, and fcit for our letters 
of introduction. Would that it could have 
been so ! But no ; our artists, our wise men, 
were gone. Where.'' 

"The picture, relieved of its romance, was 
but a gulch of the caiion, rugged and desolate. 
The red rocks towered towards the sky ; the 
old farm was overgrown by dense willows ; the 
houses were in ruins ; and the only signs of 
habitation were our quiet camp, a half mile 
away, and three boats floating on the glassy 
stream against the bank. Hunger began to 
suggest a return after a while ; and, without 
further delay, we wended our way back through 
the willows to camp. 

" The others came in soon after, bringing 
with them a huge pot of earthen ware, which 
they had found, quietly awaiting a discov- 
erer, in a nice, dry nook under a projecting 



rock, where it had, perhaps, rested over a 
centurj^ 

" It contained several coils of willows, split, 
ready for basket-making, which were so ten- 
der with age that they snapped under the 
slightest pressure. Around one bundle was 
tied a small piece of cord, or rope, so rotten 
now that it came to pieces on being handled. 
It was made from reddish-looking fibres, and 
was well twisted. 

"The pot itself was still somewhat black on 
the bottom, from exposure to fire; and we all 
looked upon it as an invaluable relic — which 
it was; but it was destined never to reach the 
settlements in its natural condition, as, a short 
time after, it was accidentally broken into 
small pieces. 

"The path out had been an easy one, for 
the aged poles had sustained the party with- 
out showing any signs of yielding; and, once 
up, they found no more diflSculties, but went 
out on the plateau with ease. 




It might have been a portion of a Royal Tea-set 

"This consecrated spot was left with re- 
gret, as we went on, and we found nothing 
more of importance until Milicrag Bend was 
reached. Here we found several caves in a 
detached cliff. In front of these caves were 
two or three acres of soil, available for culti- 
vation, and the rare prize had not escaped the 
Shinomos. Selecting the caves for their 
dwelling-places, and the ground for their 
farm, they must have lived in comparative se- 
curity, for a time, here in the heart of the 
desert. 

" The openings of the caves had been walled 
up, except an aperture answering for a door, 
and in one a second, serving for a window. 
The floors, covered with a debris of dust, 
sticks, bones, and cactus spines, were eagerly 
overhauled, in the dim light, for relics, in 
spite of the scorpions unearthed, and the pain 
caused by once in a while touching some of 
the cactus spines. Nothing but a few corn- 
cobs, however, was discovered, and, as it was 
anything but agreeable in the caves, no one 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



123 



was desirous of pursuing the exploration to 
any great extent. 

" Our next discovery was still farther down. 
We had just left the mouth of the Dirty Devil 
River, when one of the boys espied an object 
which caused an exclamation. We looked to- 
wards the left bank, and there, upon a prom- 
ontory rising about two hundred feet above 
the river, stood a house — a genuine house 
right here in the wilderness, though seeming- 
ly without a roof; or, if it had one, it was flat. 
Certainly' no one lived in this desert; none 
but an Indian would live here, and he would 
not go to the trouble of building a house. The 
conclusion that followed was, simply, Shino- 
tno ! A landing was instantly effected, and 
we started across a strip of level soil, inter- 
vening between the cliff and the river, in 
search of a point of ascent. Immediately be- 
neath that part of the cliff upon which stood 
the castle, the ground was covered with the 
usual accumulation of pottery fragments, ar- 
row-heads, and chips of chalcedonj'. One 
piece of pottery I secured was so artistically 
marked, and so finely finished, that it might 
have been a portion of a i-oyal tea-set. 

" To the left was a talus, affording an easy 
ascent, and, taking advantage of it, we stood 
beside the ruin — for ruin it was — of a house 
so symmetrical that it would have done jus- 
tice to a more modern architect, supplied with 
improved instruments. Three walls, some 
fifteen feet in height, were still standing, and 
of these the corners were as true and sharp, 
and the walls themselves as straight, as plumb- 
line could make them. Some kind of mortar 
had been used, but it must have been merely 
mud-mortar, for now not a trace of it could 
be found. 

"The point of the cliff upon vvhich it was 
built was formed of level blocks of sandstone, 
and upon these, close to the base of the house, 
were cut a number of curious designs, while 
the large, isolated rocks close by were tattooed 
all over with pictures, highly praiseworthy 
for such humble ' artists of nature.' Under 
the verge of the cliff ran a narrow bench, over 
which the rocks projected, so as to form a per- 
fect ceiling, ten feet or more above the rocky 
floor. This bench could be gained only at 
one or two points from above, and at but one 
from below. A series of walls had been built, 
dividing this natural hall into a number of 
different houses, or compartments, with win- 
dows and connecting doorways, while here 
and there were balconies, where the rocks 
above did not protrude far enough to form a 
roof. Many of the walls had fallen down, 
leaving the apartmenis light and airy; and 



with ease we strolled along, viewing an almost 
continuous panorama of inexplicable draw- 
ings adorning the back-rock. 

" What a rare gallery of art it was. this col- 
lection of pictures which had waited so long 
for admirers! And only now its visitors had 
come. Some of the designs were chiselled 
out, and others were executed in a strange 
style of coloring, which seemed a part of the 
rock itself. 

" Our artist copied them all, and I have 
drawn some on this paper from memory, and 
some from notes. Serpents and lizards there 
were, and bodies with heads, and bodies with- 
out heads; strange circles, with zigzag lines 
running through them; arrows, crossed; 
queer-shaped individuals, with their hands 
clasped together; and fish, and mountain 
sheep, and I don't know what all. 

" This place was almost as impressive as the 
ruins above; and it was with the greatest re- 
luctance that we resumed our voyage, and 
watched the home of the artists till a bend in' 
the river drew the curtain, and we turned our 
attention to the lookout for more. We saw 
the ruins of three or four houses on the right; 
though, as they did not appear very attractive, 
we did not land; but at evening, close to out 
camp, on some hills, were several ruins, rather 
indistinct. Within a few feet of the best-pre- 
served one was a circular basin, resembling 
the sawdust ring of a circus, only it was but 
about twenty feet in diameter. This the 
colonel pronounced a ruined kiva; and for a 
while we dug with prodigious energy, attempt- 
ing to strike the old, buried walls. Alas for our 
fond hopes of discovering rare relics ! Dark- 
ness came upon us too soon : and in the morn- 
ing, owing to the low state of our larder, we 
were obliged to pull out, and sail on. Each 
day now brought fresh signs of these ancient 
artists. Once some pottery of a rare cream- 
color was discovered. Again, in a side al- 
cove, was found a store-cave, with a very small 
door, whose sides showed the impressions of 
the builders' fingers in the plaster, as though 
made no later than yesterday." 

Next, the Captain gave us a description of a 
peculiar wall, supposed by the Mormons lO be 
of Shinomo origin; but geologists had pro- 
nounced it notliing more than a dislocation 
of strata. He also told of various out-of-the- 
way places where he had found the carvings, 
much to his astonishment, and then proceeded 
with the following: — 

" The vicinity of Mount Trumbull, although 
rough and volcanic, abounds with evidences 
of early habitation by the Shinomos. Boul- 
ders of basalt, as hard, almost, as iron, are 



124 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



found covered with carved figures, and the 
tops of some of the UnagkaritcJiets, or cinder- 
cones, abound in ruins and broken pottery. 

"Over a lava bed, ragged as a nutmeg- 
grater, and which can only be traversed with 
the greatest care, trails have been built in all 
directions. By following these, it is easy, 
comparatively speaking, to walk over the lava; 
and you would at once notice the vast differ- 
ence between the rocks in the trail and those 
outside. A bit taken from the main bed re- 
sembles a coarse sponge in texture, but is as 
hard as flint, and very angular; a piece from 
in the trail is as smooth as a cobble-stone. 
How many, many passing footsteps it must 
have taken, then, to accomplish all this! For 
look at an ordinary sidewalk, composed of 
moderately soft sandstone. Does it not take 
long years for the multitude of footsteps to 
make an impression.? The steady flow of wa- 
ter will in time wash away the hardest rock; 
and just so did the tread of moccasoned feet 
grind down those fragmentary rocks to peb- 
bles. 

'' The question naturally arising in your 
minds is. Why did they travel over such rug- 
ged ground .'' And it can only be answered by 
the supposition that their toivns were built 
upon the lava bed, to offer the enemy a greater 
disadvantage. 

" Near the terminus of one of these trails 
was a little hollow in the rocks, which became 
full at even a slight shower of rain ; and close 
by this tuater-pocket, half buried beneath a 
mass of lava, was discovered a human skele- 
ton. Between the mouldering ribs, an Indian 
water-basket, or jug, was decomposing; and 
the whole presented a ghastly sight in such an 
awful sepulchre. The teeth were yet well pre- 
served, and I obtained one of them for a relic. 
It was a molar, and of a different shape from 
any I had ever seen before, and yellow with 
age. The skeleton could hardly be that of a 
Shinomo, for it does not seem possible that it 
would last so long, exposed to the snows of 
the mountains; and yet it may have been the 
last poor, wretched remnant of those who in- 
habited the lava bed, who prowled around 
among the dark rocks, evading his enemies 
successfully, until at last, perhaps, his water- 
ing-place was discovered. Then a vicious 
brute ensconces himself snugly behind a 
screening rock, and patiently waits his time. 
The moon breaks forth from a silvery prison, 
with a cheering brilliancy, as the poor Shino- 
mo stoops to fill his exhausted jug. The 
twang of a bow-string breaks upon his ready 
ear; but it is too Ir.te for him to escape. The 
tearing arrow pierces him through and 



through. With a yell of defiance he starts up 
to fall quivering upon the cold rocks, as the 
moon, seemingly horrified, draws again its 
dark curtain. A pitiless smile plays about 
the mouth of the assassin, as he rolls over the 
corpse, and withdraws the arrow. Then, to 
finish his work, he detaches the mass of black 
hair, crashes several large rocks upon the 
body, and disappears in the direction of a dis- 
tant fire. 

" That is a picture of Indian warfare, wheth- 
er the victim be Shinomo or Caucasian. 

"The lava bed was estimated to be about 
three hundred years old. So the Shinomos 
who lived there must have passed from exist- 
ence somewhere in the neighborhood of one 
hundred and fifty years ago, as no tradition 
of them can be obtained from any of the pres- 
ent Indians. They were exterminated by the 
advance-guard of the great Ute family, just 
as the Utes in their turn are giving way to the 
present generation." 

Continuing, the Captain gave us a lengthy 
theory of the origin of the races of America, 
which I cannot repeat, but will give you his 
closing words. 

"Thus, all through this south-western 
country, you find signs of civilization, pre- 
historic; and the farther south you journey, 
the more massive are the ruins of habitations, 
and the more perfect are the works of art, 
until you reach the ruins, so grand and 
majestic, in Central America; the remains of 
great cities, constructed, abandoned, and dis- 
integrated long before the proud Aztec Mon- 
tezuma ruled his vast empire, and long, even, 
before that empire existed. 

" And now, gentlemen, having told you 
about all I know of the Shinomos, the wise 
men, and Nature's rude artists, I will say no 
more, leaving you to ponder the subject to 
your hearts' content." 

The long, dismal howl of a coyote rose 
through the silence of the valley, becoming 
faint in the distance as the Captain sat down. 

"An appropriate 'amen,'" i : narked the 
General. 

Then a consultation was held to see who 
should deliver the next lecture, and, unac- 
countably, it again fell to the Captain. Re- 
luctantly he agreed to entitle his lecture 
"The Unknown River, or Old Father Time's 
Masterpiece." 

Note. A, in Indian words, generally has the Italian 
sound. Kiva is pronounced keva ; Shinomo, Shee-no-mo ; 
Moquls, Mokees ; Navajo, Navaho ; Apac'ne. A -patck-e ; 
Cohonini, Co-ko-neiie; Wicky-ups is probably contracted 
from viicker-upi. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



125 




The Steersman clinging to a Ring in the Stern. Page 130. 



THE CAMP m THE GULOH. 

IV.— THE UlSTKETO^T^TN" BIVEB, OR OLD 
FATHER TIME'S MASTERPIECE. 

BY JUSTIN DALE. 

/■"^ ENTLE reader, the subject for the lecture 



VJ 



this evening was not new to us. How- 



ever, the Captain proposed to present it in a 
form as attractive as possible; and the topic 
would bear much fresh handling: in fact, we 
never were tired of re-discussing the wonder- 
ful river, and of hearing the Captain rehearse 
some of his thrilling experiences; therefore 
we prepared to listen to-night to a discourse 
of considerable interest on the unknown river, 
the Rio Colorado Grande of the Spaniards, 
and the Americans' Colorado River of the 
"West, which so long in solitude had wrestled 
with the hard rocks obstructing its pathway 
to the bosom of old Ocean, cheered on by its 
own eternal thunder. 

The interest, too, was heightened by our 
being so near to Marble Cation, one of the 
deepest and grandest chasms of the whole col- 
lection. We had gazed from eminences, 
thi-ough the blue haze, at its narrow top, and 
often wondered how the interior looked ; won- 
dered if the same clear sunshine that bathed 
the rocks of the gulch ever nenetrated to its 



mystic depths, scarcely believing the Captain 
when he answered in the affirmative. 

Quietly our lecturer began as follows : — 
" Far away in the north, among the wild 
gulches of the Wind River Mountains, several 
rivers rise, and, swelled by additional streams, 
become irresistible torrents. One of these 
streams, the Snake River, plunges rapidly 
down, and settles in the channel of the great 
Columbia. Another, rising but a short dis- 
tance away, is Green River. Its emerald wa- 
ters tumble down in numerous rapids, through 
small caiions, foretelling, with an ominous 
murumr, the terrible struggle to take place 
below. Two or three hundred miles are thus 
passed, when a high barrier is found. Tearing 
through this, its fate is sealed. It begins al- 
most at once its headlong race to the sea, 
hundreds of miles away, and six thousand feet 
below, and stops not until, mingled with oth- 
er waters, it unites with the briny fluid of the 
Gulf of California. 

"This is the Unknown River, and its course 
is marked by a deep gash on the surface of 
our globe. But through this channel so deep 
it has not always run so furiously. In the be- 
ginning — so long ago that no man can com- 
pute it — the foaming torrent was a broad, 
placid stream, meandering among the hillock.^ 
and flowing through great quiet lakes to- 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



wards an abrupt coast, where it poured off 
into the sea. Slowly the surging waters un- 
dermined the foundation-rock of the cascade, 
and the top was crushed in, or, rather, broken 
off, thus causing the cascade to take a step 
backward, and leaving an alcove, or bay, sur- 
rounded by high walls. 

"The pent-up surge gnawed steadily at the 
foot of the fall, and again it gave way, taking 
a second step inland. And in this manner, 
similar to the retrograde movement of Niaga- 
ra, the mighty fall steadily backed up into the 
plateau, and as steadily became shorter, for at 
each successive breaking back, the bottom of 
the gorge was filled up with the debris, mak- 
ing it a little higher than that farther down ; 
consequently the water did not have quite so 
far to fall. The struggle continued in this 
way till the fall either disappeared in softer 
rock, or could make no plunge, the bottom 
having risen to the top. 

"At the «ame time, however, erosion of the 
surrounding country was being carried on by 
lieavy rainfalls following each other in rapid 
succession. Ridges and mountain ranges were 
formed, and the drainage of the surface was 
changed into many directions by the sudden 
emptying of the pools or lakes, as the river 
wore its deep gorge northward. Someof these 
ridges and mountains were at right angles 
with the course of the stream ; and to an ob- 
server then, the cafion through them would 
have seemed to have been cut o/iferthe ranges 
were formed, causing great perplexity. 

" By the time the river had ceased to have a 
vertical fall, the country was well diversified 
by high mountains and deep canons, and the 
river itself was hemmed in by walls rising 
many thousand feet. The rain then was not 
so evenly distributed, for the higher portions 
condensed the clouds befoi"e they arrived over 
the lower; and the result was, that some parts 
had rains only at comparatively long inter- 
vals. 

"The tributary streams by this time had as- 
sumed definite courses, and were attempting 
to gain the river level in the way that the 
river had tried to gain the level of the ocean, 
namely, by plunging over the abrupt walls in 
cascades. 

" Their canons soon resembled that of the 
river; though, owing to the unequal distribu- 
tion of rain, some were at times dry, leaving 
the disintegration entirely to the frost and 
wind, which accomplished their work much 
slower than water. 

" The surface of the country was, in this 
way, ground down to its present configuration. 



We now have the river, at its head, about 
seven thousand feet above the sea level, with 
a descent rapid or gradual, according to the 
nature of the strata through which it flows. 
The walls are low, when compared with the 
original ; and in the lateral canons can be 
found specimens of the immense leaps which 
the water made to reach the river. For in- 
stance : suppose you were travelling beside a 
caiion. You come to an impassable branch. 
To avoid it, you head it ; that is, you follow 
it up until you find the highest point to which 
the vertical plunge has receded, and then you 
can easily go around. 

" A good illustration of the formation ol 
canons is found in a mud ravine. Take, for 
example, a level bottom, with a creek quietly 
wending its way downwards through shal- 
lows and pools. As you follow it along, your 
ear suddenly catches the sound of falling wa- 
ter, and in a few moments you are standing 
on the brink of a miniature Niagara. With a 
quick plunge the creek pours over into a per- 
fect caiion, cut through the hard soil. You 
wonder at first why the creek should ' caiion ' 
so suddenly at this particular spot, as the soil 
is evidently no different from the surrounding. 
But, while you stand and wonder, you hear a 
splash. Upon closer examination, you find 
that fragments of the edge, undermined by 
the surge below, are at intervals dropping off, 
and the cascade is receding towards the high 
ground. It will keep on receding until it 
reaches sandy ground, when the water will 
sweep through without a fall. You follow on, 
and find, after a short distance, that the canon 
is growing wider, and in some places there is 
no wall at all. 

"Three great causes combine to produce this 
change — water, frost, and wind. Frost and 
wind break off masses of the verge, which fall 
into the stream, and direct its course against 
the opposite bank. This it undermines, and 
the top, falling in, turns the tide back again, 
and vice versa. Consequently it is readily 
seen that the reason the gorge is represented 
still farther down only by a hollow, or val- 
ley, is because there is where Time has had 
the best chance, and has levelled the country 
down from its primitive condition, to make 
it habitable for man and beast. 

" And so it is with the rivers of the world. 
Those now navigable, and surrounded by fer- 
tile valleys, have passed through the ordeal, 
while those like the Colorado of the West are 
far from being completed. The Lower Colo- 
rado is slowly transforming; but before it is 
perfect, erosion will have to gnaw dexterous- 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



127 



ly at the Sierra Nevada, the Wasatch, and the 
Rocky Mountain ranges. 

" As I have now hinted at the manner in 
which the great cafions were formed, I will 
now proceed to tell jou something of the pi- 
oneers who descended them. The first party 
was conducted by a gentleman as a private 
venture. The second was a regular s'urvey 
party, led by the same gentleman, under di- 
rection of the government. Their boats were 
launched at the railway crossing of Green 
River, and from there the three little craft, 
manned by ten men, sailed down the Unknown 
River into the heart of the mystery. 

"For a while all was very fine, till the river 
cut through the ridge in the carion of Flaming 
Gorge. Then the rapids began to appear, 
few and insignificant at first; but, upon enter- 
ing Red River Canon, their proportions in- 
creased, and work became lively. Flaming 
Gorge had been the gate-wa}' to the depths 
that, it was said, no man could trace and come 
out alive. It was predicted that our boats 
would never float in Brown's Park, at the foot 
of Red River Caiion ; but we passed success- 
fully into the beautiful valley, and sailed on 
into the gates of Lodore, so majestic, so sub- 
lime ! 

" The dark walls had hardly closed around 
us before the music of turbulent water came 
to our anxious ears. Eight days' hard labor, 
and the fourteen miles, with their Disaster 
Falls, Triplet Falls, Bowlder Falls, Hell's Half 
Mile, and what not, were passed, and we were 
eight hundred feet nearer the sea level. Pass- 
ing the mouth of Yampah River, we tumbled 
on through Whirlpool Caiion, Island Park, 
Split-Mountain Canon, and the Uintah Vallev. 

"A fresh interest was added to the voyage 
by the discovery of the picture-writing on the 
rocks. Next we had the Canon of Desolation, 
through which the river makes a troubled and 
rapid descent. Then through Gray Carion to 
Castle Valley — a short break in the regular- 
ity of the walls, and the place where Captain 
Gunnison crossed the Green, in his famous 
trip through the West. 

" Labyrinth and Still-water Caiions came 
in quick succession ; and at the foot of the lat- 
ter was the junction with the Grand River. 
For the first time our eyes rested on the Rio 
Colorado Grande, as it started on its way 
through Cataract Caiion. This carion proved 
true to its name. Cataracts came thick and 
fast, and it was only with extreme difiiculty 
that we could get over them. I can never for- 
get one incident, probabl}' on account of its 
w^eirdness. 



" Rations v/ere getting scarce, and navigation 
had to be carried on until very late. The time 
I speak of we came late to what appeared a 
very bad part of the caiion. The walls rose 
vertically from the water's edge to a great 
height, before they broke back a little, to go on 
up to three thousand feet. Our commander- 
in-chief reconnoitred a little before starting 
on. When we ran a small shoot, and pre- 
pared for the rest, the canon was growing 
dusky, lending an impressive solemnitj' to the 
occasion. Louder the roar of water grew, 
and at a glance we saw the river divided upon 
a rocky island, and lashed to foam against the 
cliffs on each side. 

" Keeping in the line of the dividing water, 
we ran aground on the head of the small island, 
and, leaping ashore, held our craft fast, until 
the two other boats could perform the same 
feat. They did it successfully, though the last 
one came very near going over unceremoni- 
ously. 




Our port oars had to be hastily unshipped. 



'• So far it was all right. One at a time, then, 
the boats were manoeuvred down on the right 
hand side, to a sort of middle stage to the 
rapid. Getting on board our boat, we cast 
oft', and pulled with all our strength straight 
across the ' tail ' of the rapid, to keep from 
being dashed against the left hand wall, for 
which all the current set with unswerving 
course. 

" All was cleared safely, though our boat 
swept so close to the pointed rocks that our 
port oars had to be hastily unshipped. The 
other boats came through in as good a con- 
dition ; and it was time. Darkness settled 
rapidly in the carion, and the clouds above, 
which had been flaming with the sunset rays, 
died down to a sombre gray. Our boats drift- 
ed on down the narrow gorge, till we were 
aroused by a loud roar, that sounded ominous 
in the gloom. We ran in, and made a camp. 



I3S 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 



" The scene at the island, I believe, was as 
awe-inspiring as any I ever beheld. With the 
dying radiance of the sky, and the increasing 
darkness of the canon, it seemed that the world 
was closing round us, an awful tomb, and one 
strained his eyes longingly to catch the last 
flickering ray of sunlight glancing across the 
dizzy brink above. But, to dispel our sad- 
ness, after a whirling rain-storm, that cheer- 
ful satellite, the moon, came sailing slowly 
and grandly through the broken clouds, up 
behind a forest of tall pinnacles, showering 
its dazzling rays upon the great, cold walls, 
and holding every man spell-bound till it 
soured above the towers, and stood sternly 
against the dark-blue sky. 

" A day or two after, we ran up to the mouth 
of the Dirty Devil River. You smile, and 
think the title not very euphonious. I agree 
with you; but that is its name, and we must 
get used to it. Here began Mound Caiion. 
Its walls were sharp, but not averaging more 
than twelve hundred feet in height. The 
river flowed smoothly, and we sailed past the 
mouth of the Rio San Juan, with dry decks, 
into Monument Canon, past the solitary Na- 
vajo Mountain, to El Vado de los Padres 
(The Crossing of the Fathers). This was so 
named from the fact that Escalante crossed 
the river at this point, with a band of priests, 
in 1776; and it is a somewhat remarkable ford. 
The walls are low, and in the autumn the wa- 
ter is shallow, — these being about as favora- 
ble conditions as you can find on the Colo- 
rado. Entering the river over the rounded 
bluff, Escalante had picked out a path diago- 
nally over the shoals, to a small canon on the 
other side, which afforded an exit. But it was 
a quarter of a mile or more above the point 
of entering, and in some places horses would 
be nearly carried off their feet by the cur- 
rent, and in others would have to swim a dis- 
tance. So you can conclude that, although 
from that time until within a few years the 
Crossing of the Fathers, or ' Ute Ford,' has 
been the only practicable point of crossing, 
yet it was not child's play. Another cross- 
ing was found to be feasible at the mouth of 
the Pa Ria River, thirty miles farther down. 
Taking advantage of this, the Mormons have 
built a ferry boat there, as you know, and 
have blasted the outlet caiion at the ' cross- 
ing 'full of rocks, so that bands of raiding 
Navajoes cannot cross. 

" Opposite the mouth of the Pa Ria is the 
Echo Peak, which I cannot pass by without 
a word. It is twenty-four hundred feet above 
the river level, and gives a remarkable echo — 



the derivation of its name. A pistol-shot will 
die away, and after an interval of twenty-four 
seconds will be heard crashing amongst cliffs, 
many miles away, like distant artillery fire." 
(The cliffs could not have been more than 
four and a half miles away, for sound only 
travels one thousand and ninety feet a second. 
Allowing twenty seconds for the shot to die 
away, would give us a total of forty-four sec- 
onds before the echo returned; or, the sound 
had travelled 47,960 feet; a little over nine 
miles. The reflecting surface must, then, be 
half this distance, or four and a half miles 
away. — J. D.) 

" Besides the echo, from this peak can be 
obtained an entrancing view. Broken cliffs 
are on every hand, with high mountains in the 
background, while on the south, stretching 
away into the endless plateau, is Marble 
Caiion, its dark, zigzag course, with the later- 
al caiions, appearing like a writhing serpent. 
At your feet is the river, bounded by walls 
only twenty or thirty feet high, while in the 
distance nothing can be seen but the narrow 
crevice. The river has sunk into the bowels 
of the earth. 

" At this point we abandoned one boat as 
unseaworthy ; and it was not long before we 
sailed on into 'the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death,' I might almost say; for three of the 
only band who had before traversed it never 
again saw civilization. They did not lose 
their lives in the canon, it is true, but still in 
close connection with it. It was in this way : 
The work had been exceedingly dangerous for 
a long time, when the river became smoother, 
and prospects were more hopeful. At this 
their hearts lightened. But the lightness was 
destined to be short-lived; for one day the 
harbinger of danger — granite — again came 
to the surface ; and following close upon its 
appearance was a rapid, which, in the language 
of one of the party, ' was enough to balk any 
man.' They found that there was only one 
way to get over it, and that was to ' screw their 
courage to the sticking-point,' and boldly face 
the music. Two boats went over in safety. 
The crew of the third, consisting of three 
men, backed out, fearing something worse 
below; and, abandoning their boat and the 
others to their fate, they sought a point where 
they managed to gain the surface once more, 
and struck out for the nearest settlement. Evil 
eyes followed their footsteps. As they were 
quenching their thirst at a water-pocket, they 
were struck down by the missiles of ambushed 
savages. 

" The party soon completed their voy- 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



129 



age in safety, and returned to more favorable 
climes. Still they wondered how their old 
companions had fared; and it was only when 
their fate was told in the settlement by a friend- 
ly Indian that the matter was definitely set- 
tled. 

"Their only monument is in the Temple 
of Music, a dome-shaped alcove, near- the 
mouth of the Rio San Juan, where, in the soft 
sandstone, they had carved their names. Upon 
this recording tablet we, too, inscribed our 
names, that, though we might be mangled in 
the seething river, or slaughtered in some 
mountain-gulch, we might have the consola- 
tion of leaving a mausoleum behind. 

" Into the jaws of the chasm, growing deep- 
er and deeper at every stroke, we sailed, listen- 
ing for the first sound of angry waters. For 
a short distance the boats glided smoothly 
and swiftly on ; the fantastically-shaped walls 
flitted by in a pleasing panorama. Ten miles 
had scarcely thus been left behind, when the 
river narrowed from four hundred to about 
three hundred feet, and plunged down the 
gorge in earnest. Following each other thick 
and fast came exhilarating runs and hard 
portages. All day long, as in the canons 
above, we were drenched to the skin. Some- 
times the boats would stand up on the huge 
waves composing the tail of a rapid, until 
they felt ready to topple over backwards, or 
would graze a ragged rock hiding beneath a 
mass of foam, so quickly that we only realized 
the danger when it was passed. 

" A thousand feet of marble was soon run 
up, and, added to the rest, made the walls 
about three thousand five hundred feet high. 
This marble was of all colors ; not variegated, 
but you could find ledges of almost any color 
you wished. In some places it was eroded 
into infinite varieties of castles, fortresses, and 
everything else j'ou pleased to imagine. But 
the whole surface was generally turned to a 
dreary red hy the iron disintegrating from the 
red sandstones above; so that, although mar- 
ble, its resemblance to quarried marble was 
slight. After a short distance, other rocks, 
coming up from below, elevated it above our 
heads; and at the mouth of the Rio Colorado 
Chiquito, the total height of the walls was 
about four thousand feet. 

" At the mouth of the Little Colorado, a 
peculiar conglomerate was observed covering 
portions of the cafion wall to about five hun- 
dred feet above the river. It was then unac- 
countable; but subsequently we discovered 
that it had been formed in this way: Farther 
down the river an overflow of lava from a vol- 

q 



cano near by had occurred, damming up the 
canon as many hundred feet as the height of 
the conglomerate on projections of the walls, 
or five hundred feet plus the amount of de- 
scent between the mouth of the Little Colo- 
rado and the point of obstruction. The water 
then rose to the height of the dam ; and it was 
many long ages before the barrier was cut 
away, and the river again flowed at its old 
level. During this time a deposit of sediment 
was taking place in the quiet pond above the 
dam ; and the result was the stratum of con- 
glomerate, in its turn nearly eroded, — which 
had been a problem. 



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The river has sunk into the bowels of the earth. 

" Consider a moment how long the river 
must have been in cutting away the hundreds 
of feet of lava; then compare that small piece 
of work with the gigantic gorges of the Colo- 
rado, so many miles long, and see if 3'ou can 
estimate how long the earth has been in ap- 
proaching its present state from, probably, a 
mere fragment of some other world. 

" It makes your head swim to dare to think 
of such a lapse of time ; and yet you have 
lived twenty, thirty, or forty years, intending 
to live as many more equally long! 

" In 1540 an expedition was sent by Spain 
into what is now New Mexico and Arizona. 
It was under the command of Vasques de Co- 
ronado, who sent a detachment, in charge of an 
officer named Cardinas, northward; and it 
was the latter who, after a march of some 
twenty days from the Moquis towns, reached 
the margin of a gorge, the bottom of which 
seemed to him more than three leagues below. 

" Sebastian Coronado, I think, was one of 
Escalante's officers, and determined the junc- 
tion of the Colorado and Gilas, or some othe* 
stream. In fact, there are so many Corona- 
dos and Diazes, and similar names, that one 
admires the ingenuity of a Humboldt, Irving, 



13° 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 



or Prescott, in keeping tliem within their own 
sphere." 

We next listened to an account of several 
days' work, rife with danger and excitement; 
but I must omit it. One day's experience, 
which he told concisely, I will repeat. He 
said, — 

" Another day, which stands prominently 
upon the pages of my diary, is when the fierce 
river made an almost successful attempt to 
drag down our gallant leader, and George, 
the life and song of our party. It happened 
in thiswise: We had been having splendid 
luck, and dashed unharmed over nearly every- 
thing that came in our path, having innumer- 
able narrow escapes ; but, so long as we came 
out ' all right,' a miss was considered fully 
equal to a mile, and, besides, afforded conver- 
sation for the camp. 'Hard on the right!' 
« Hard on the left!' ' Pull out strong! ' 'Pull, 

pull for your lives, boys ! ' ' Pull like , 

boys, or we're gone! ' rang in our ears, min- 
gled with the tumultuous roar of water, all 
day long. 

" Sharply, one evening, we came to, upon a 
mass of granitic bowlders, where was room 
for a camp. Just below was a small rapid, 
and a half mile farther down was as ugly a 
looking hole as I had ever seen. The decision 
was to run it in the morning, an examination 
having placed it in a favorable light. Morn- 
ing, therefore, found the two boats with hatch- 
es battened down securely, and everything 
made fast that would go by the board in case 
of a capsize. 

" Our boat, containing the colonel, was to 
go first. Manning the oars, we cast off, and 
swung out into the stream. The regular dip- 
ping of the oars accelerated the speed of the 
boat, and like an arrow she shot through 
the small rapid, allowing the colonel to catch 
a better view of the plunge. We would then 
have landed, and again inspected it; but it 
was too late. No human power could stem 
that tide; and, heading her on, we backed wa- 
ter, that we might fly into the boiling mass 
of surges, whirlpools, and waves with the least 
possible speed. 

" Silently, smoothly we swept down the de- 
clivity, and darted into the chaos. Wave after 
wave curled over me as I handled the bow 
oars; wave after wave rolled from stem to 
stern of our little bark, filling the standing- 
rooms even with the gunwale. 

" ' Bale just as fast as you can, boys ! ' the 
colonel said, calmly but emphatically; and 
we left the oars, and plied the kettles with an 
ardor cooled only by each successive wave 



undoing our work, till one, more powerful than 
the rest, struck us a blow on the port bow, 
and over we rolled, quick as thought. Had 
the colonel not had on his life-preserver, it 
would have been all over with him. Even as 
it was, he wfus pitched some distance from 
the boat, together with the stroke oarsman, 
George, and they were caught in a whirlpool, 
and drawn rapidly downward. I made a 
clutch for something, as the muddy water 
closed over my head ; and, luckily for me, my 
hand clasped a spare oar that was fastened to 
the gunwale, by the aid of which I brought 
my head once again into the life-giving me- 
dium. My hat, a soft felt, had been pulled 
well over my ears, and still held its ground, 
clasping my face so tight that I could not see, 
and could hardly breathe. After turning the 
brim up so that I could look around, I saw 
nothing of my companions. A second look, 
however, showed me the steersman clinging 
to a ring in the stern. We then, for the time 
being, were all right; but the whirlpool pretty 
near finished our friends. I had almost given 
them up for lost, when a commotion in the 
water beside me attracted my attention. In- 
stantly George and the colonel popped up as 
though shot from a bow. Had they come up 
twenty feet from the boat, they would have 
been swept on down the wild current, and 
dashed to pieces against the rocks. 

"Righting our craft, we one at a time climbed 
in. Then we laid to the work of reaching 
shore before another rapid could claim a visit. 
Had this latter emergency occurred, we would, 
most likely, have had to say farewell to the 
sunlight. A boat full of water, all but three 
compartments, and with a hundred feet of 
hawser trailing in the water, is no easy thing 
to handle with any degree of rapidity. What- 
ever we did must be done instantly. We 
pulled like heroes. Caught by an eddy when 
near the wall, we were carried up stream as 
fast as we had been going down ; and there was 
imminent danger of again being thrown into 
the main current. We succeeded, by steady 
labor, in running up to the granite ; and, haul- 
ing in a few feet of the hawser, I leaped on a 
convenient ledge, and made fast to a small knob 
of granite, just as the consort ran alongside, 
minus a pair of oars, full of water, and with 
a rowlock torn oif. Owing to her lightness 
and superior sea-going qualities, she had 
weathered the gate, and sustained only slight 
damages. 

" When order was once more restored, we 
proceeded, with the usual number of hair- 
breadth escapes, till near evening, when, ip 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



131 



attempting to land at the head of a long, dan- 
gerous rapid, a lurch of the boat made me miss 
my calculation, and, instead of jumping on a 
large rock, I sank beneath the current, while 
the boat and its occupants rushed on to its 
fate, towing me by the length of line I had 
taken out, and which I clung to, dragging 
myself to the surface. 

"It was not the desire of the crew to thus 
involuntarily run a bad rapid stern-first ; con- 
sequently, as the boat drifted past a projecting 
rock, the colonel leaped out, and tried to catch 
the line. He failed. The steersman franti- 
cally followed the example of our leader. 
Springing high in air, he came down with a 
splash upon a bowlder just protruding above 
the surface, and clutched it with desperate en- 
ergy. 

" How he got to the shore I do not know. 
I was interested elsewhere. I thought I was 
left to battle with the rapid alone, and as the 
water was no place to do it in, — to swim 
ashore would have been impossible, — I went 
hand over hand to the boat, and tumbled 
into the bow standing-room. Surprised and 
pleased, I found George had remained to help 
me out of my dilemma, and we prepared to 
take the rapid in the most advantageous man- 
ner. Close to the final plunge, in the middle 
of the stream, was a mass of granite as big as 
a house. Against this the water surged, and 
then recoiled. The swell thus caused gave us 
an impetus towards the left hand wall ; and, 
laying all our strength on the oars, we shot 
across, and lodged against a friendly projec- 
tion, while, speedily, I jumped on a ledge, and 
had her fast to the rocks. Safe! And happy 
we were, you can believe, as we cast a glance 
over the tumbling waters to the gloomy bend 
below, and then above, to see what had be- 
come of the rest. 

"A point had cut off their view, and the 
colonel rapidly climbed up the cliff, to watch 
for the end. To his great joy, he saw us safe, 
and ordered the other boat to be let down by 
line, which was accomplished with extreme 
difficulty. 

" But one fine day all these things came to 
an end, as my lecture now has done. We 
bade a farewell forever to the wild Colorado ; 
and that is how I happen to be here to-night, 
by the fire of our snug camp in the gulch, tell- 
ing you why my bones are not bleaching on 
the banks of the Unknown River." 

We dispersed to our humble shelter, for it 
was much later than usual, and all were ready 
to go to sleep, and " no questions asked." 
But, for the benefit of the inquisitive, I will 



add that our next lecture was to be delivered 
by the General, on " Some Noble Red Men." 

NoTK. Rio is pronounced reo ; San Juan, San Hooakn ; 
Chiquito, tche-ke-io ; Sierra, Sea-air-rah; Escalante, Ei- 
ka-lan-tay. Chiquito means very little. 





132 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 




Some Noble Red Men. Page 137. 



THE OAMP IN THE GULOH. 

v. — SOME WOBLE BED MEN. 

BY JUSTIN DALE. 

" '' I ^HE native American, as long as mj 
-'- memory serves me, has been the world's 
ideal of cruelty." 

The General stopped, and darted his keen 
blue eyes at us the more fully to impress his 
sentence. He stooped and stirred up the fire 
before proceeding, and one unacquainted with 
him would have thought that he had entirely 
forgotten himself in some vision of the past. 

"But," he went on, "was he by nature 
cruel, or did contamination with cruelty make 
him so.'' We all now unite in sneering at his 
wretchedness, at ' the Noble Red Man,' as he 
is swept away by civilization's irresistible tide. 
We all unite in condemning his fruitless at- 
tempt to hold the home of his childhood 
against the invader ; but we do not stop to 
reason that we would, perhaps, act precisely 
the same, were we similarly situated. 

"You say we would not be guilty of such 
acts of cruelty as the savage has been known, 
to commit. I agree with you ; but let us at 
the same time think a moment. Recall the 
gentle nature of the savages met by the Span- 



I iards about the year 1500. Do you not remem- 
ber the words of the chief, who, before being 
btir?ied at the stake for resisting the authority 
of the Spanish crown, said, when asked, that 
he did not want to become a Christian and 
go to heaven, where he was told the white 
men went, for he would not go where he must 
again submit to such cruelty.'' It seems to me 
that European humanity must have been be- 
low par in those days ; and when the words 
of this primitive martyr, together with other 
tales, were related to the young Indian, he 
must have started up with all his impetuosi- 
ty, and sworn eternal vengeance on all white 
men. 

" In consequence, the pioneer, returning 
from the day's chase, found his cabin a heap 
of smouldering ruins, and his family either 
murdered or carried away to a fate ten thou-, 
sand fold more horrible than simple murder. 
Before the miserable wreck of all that was 
dear to him, then, the hunter on his knees 
swore vengeance on the Indian. Forth he 
went, and every Indian crossing his path was 
stricken by the unerring bullet, and another 
notch was added to the record on the stock of 
his gun. 

"These notches, m.ost likely, recorded the 
deaths of red men who had nothing whatever 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



133 



to do with the rupture of his happiness, and 
who may have desired peace as much as he 
himself did. 

" It mattered not to the avenger. He thirst- 
ed for the blood of Indians, and took it. The 
Indian, in return, thirsted for the blood of 
white men, and as unjustly took it. 

" It is so now. Let an Indian commit a 
depredation, and the white men wreak their 
vengeance on all Indians, without discrimina- 
tion. 

•' Suppose an opposite case. An Indian has 
been killed by a white man. You are riding 
along alone, and for revenge an Indian shoots 
jou in the back, although you had not the 
slightest idea that any one had been killing 
red-skins. Your murder would enrage your 
friends, and in their turn they would murder 
every Indian they could get at. When a white 
man shoots an Indian, it's all right with the 
rest of the whites ; but should an Indian shoot 
a white, he is killed for it. Th& same rule 
applies to the other side. Therefore, if a man 
now shows humanity to a ' treacherous' red- 
skin, the latter generally concludes At once 
that he is afraid of him, or else is a fool. In 
the first case he would take advantage of the 
poor white ; in the second he would let him 
alone. 

" I was once getting a drink from a tank of 
water, when an Indian leisiu'ely sauntered up 
and asked for a drink. To satisfy my curios- 
ity, I dipped up a cupful, and politely handed 
it him. He drained it, and then — although 
he stood as close to the tank as I — he held 
the cup towards me, and enclaimed, ' More.' 
I was tempted to swear, and use a little shoe 
leather; but, as I was partially to blame, I 
took the cup, and walked otf. 

"We can conclude, then, that once the red 
man was noble, — which was very long ago, 
— and that now he will stand the closest watch- 
ing one can give him. 

" Some of these noble red men, of whom 
I shall say a few words, — omitting, however, 
to state wherein they are noble, — are the Na- 
vajoes and the Pi Utes — almost the highest 
and the lowest grades of living Indian na- 
tions. 

"The first class — the Navajoes — are a 
part of the great Athabascan family, to which 
belong also the Apaches, Chippewas, and oth- 
ei-s. For intelligence, they rank among the 
first of aborigines; and, as a natural result, 
are tolerably well off in wordlj' goods : I mean 
horses, &c. From the Moquis they have 
learned the art of weaving, and produce more 
and finer blankets than their teachers. It is 



said that the reason their blankets are better 
is, that among the Navajoes the men do the 
weaving, while with the Moquis it is the wo- 
men. How much merit this explanation has, 
you can judge for 3'ourselves. Besides the 
woollen goods, their property consists of large 
flocks of sheep, herds of horses, and various 
other animals. 

" The Navajo bearing is quite dignified, and 
their character is freer and more frank than 
that of most Indians. Their imitative spirit 
leads them to adopt many customs not origi- 
nal. They work in iron to a certain extent; 
and I have seen a bridle-bit made by one of 
the rude blacksmiths which exhibited consid- 
erable skill. 

" At present the whole tribe is at peace, 
though they have been so but a few years. 
They will smuggle off a horse or sheep once 
in a while; but, taken all in all, they behave 
themselves very properly. When in their own 
domains, they are said to be extremely hos- 
pitable, often killing a sheep from their flocks 
to supply their guests with proper food. In 
return, they expect to receive good treatment 
when they make a pilgrimage to a foreign 
land. 

" They understand little or no English, but 
know considerable Spanish; hence one who 
understands the latter language can generally 
make himself understood. 

" The Navajo is rather of a humorous na- 
ture, and at proper times will accept a joke 
with the best of grace. Frequently you can 
have as jolly a time with a band just met, as 
with old- acquaintances • of a lighter color. 
They will sing for you, dance for you, or 
laugh at you ; anything to make an evening 
merry. Their singing is curious, as is all 
Indian singing. When heard for the first 
time, it sounds so funny that you would laugh 
immoderately; but as you hear more there 
appears a kind of doleful significance, which 
claims attention. I never was able to ascer- 
tain whether their songs had any meaning or 
not; but it is most probable that they have, 
if they are like other Indians. 

" To one who does not understand the lan- 
guage, the songs are a mere a-he — a-he — a-he 
— a-ha — a-ha — a-ho — a-ho — a-ho — a-ho — 
a-hi — a-hi, and so forth. While uttering this 
gibberish, some of the singers will close their 
eyes and draw their countenances into shapes 
so forlorn in expression that they would make 
exquisite head-stones in a graveyard. 

" Their language itself is pleasant and musi- 
cal, when spoken fluently. It abounds in a 
sound • ktla,' which gives to words a strange 



134 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



force, and makes them extremely hard for an 
English tongue to master Examples are, 
^Tshi-ktla-e/i,' a match ; '■Ktle-be-zas-ta,' '■Ktlc- 
^e-^«/7,' names for bridle and saddle; ' Pal- 
ktlad-die,' a blanket. 

" These Indians are usually well-built and 
muscular, with brilliant e\'es and pearly teeth, 
black mustaches, that form on each side an 
accurate right angle, and long black hair kept 
glossj' by frequent washing with soap-^'oot — 
the root of a species oi yucca. When I re- 
mark that anything about an Indian is neat 
or clean, I mean that it is so for an Indian. 
Always remember that every Indian is more 
or less filthy; that is to say, none are clean. 

" We invited a party of seven or eight dig- 
nitaries to camp near us once, that we might 
have an opportunity of learning their habits, 
language, and natures better. Our camp was 
beside a little shallow creek, and the Navajoes 
camped close by on the other side. We fur- 
nished them with wood from our pile, and 
gave them some rations, in order that thej' 
might get into a mood for song and panto- 
mimic conversation. < 









'"'t-*'^' 




" Wicky-up." 

" Until after we had disposed of our own 
supper, we left them to themselves. But as 
soon as it was fairly dark, we went over, and 
it was only a short time before we had them 
singing to their full capacity. They did not 
stop with one or two songs, but kept it up until 
for once we were abundantly satisfied. At 
some parts they laughed as though they would 
burst, and, for aught we could tell, might have 
been enjoying themselves at our expense; but 
we cared not, and appreciated their hilarity as 
much as themselves. Finally, they requested 
us to sing; and of course we could not refuse, 
after they had given us such an admirable 
concert. 



" That sweetest of all songs was our first 
selection, for it was so entirely diflferent from 
the broken bowlings of the Indians. The 
beautiful words of ' Home, sweet Home,' rose 
sweetly on the night air, charming even our- 
selves, but delighting the red men. 

" Ash-tish-cal, the principal chief, was 
wholly absorbed. He leaned forward with a 
vague, lost air, while his sharp ej'es percepti- 
bly softened, as the gentle strains fell sooth- 
ingly on his ear. 

" As the last notes died away, they exclaimed, 
with great pleasure, ' Wehuo, wehuo, wehuo- 
ha (good, good, good), and Ash-tish-cal stared 
abstractedly into the bed of coals. Was he 
dreaming of a home — sweet home — recalled 
to his heart by the harmony of the song .? Not 
improbable, for, 'be it ever so humble, there's 
no place like home.' 

" We sang them several more songs : ' Cham- 
pagne Charley,' 'Beautiful Isle of the Sea,' 
'Lone Starry Hours,' and others, all of which 
our friends enjoyed, to all outward appear- 
ances. 

"To '^enliven the assemblage, a dance was 
next proposed. Not a ' Lancers,' or a ' Re- 
dowa,' or a ' German,' but a genuine Atnert- 
can 'walk around,' such as one does not get 
a chance to participate in every day. Around 
the fire a mixed circle of Navajoes and Amer- 
icans was formed, and when all was ready, 
the Navajoes struck up their music. To this 
tune we circled round and round, with the in- 
describable Indian step, so slow and yet so 
double-jointed, until we became dizzy, when 
we turned and unwound the other way. This 
was kept up until we concluded we had 
enough of it. Occasionally some one would 
stumble over a root or something, and nar- 
rowly escape falling into the fire, amusing the 
Indians hugeW. 

" When we had again seated ourselves, the 
subject of Pi Utes came up. With a laugh 
the Navajoes exclaimed, ' Pi Utes no wehuo,' 
and at the same time a bright idea seemed to 
possess a short, wiry fellow, who jumped up 
and stepped away a rod or two behind some 
tall skunk bushes. Another, whose name, 
translated, signified ' the Bear,' smiled as 
though he knew what was coming, and the 
smile passed to the lips of the others. 

"The Indian soon reappeared. He had 
thrown ofi" all his clothing but his short 
breeches, and these were rolled up as far as 
practicable. His hair was dishevelled, his 
countenance was strained into a perfect pic- 
ture of miser}', and his advance was with a 
slow, sneaking gait, precisely the opposite of 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



135 



his original firm, upright bearing. Evidently 
he was going to present himself as a comedi- 
an. He crouched close to the fire, exactly as 
the Pi Utes do, and spread his hands stiffly 
over it, shivering continually. Then, drawl- 
ing himself up into smaller dimensions, he 
revolved his hand about his face in the vicin- 
ity of his nose, and produced a prolonged 
sniffle, very much as a boot-black would do, 
if he had lost his cambric. Keeping his el- 
bows close against his sides, he shiveringly 
extended his hand, and exclaimed, in a whining 
tone, ' Tobac, ash-an-ty.' ' Biscuit, ash-an- 
fy,' suddenly withdrawing it, with indications 
of great fear. This representation of Pi Ute 
character was perfect; and while we all 
laughed at the Indian's cleverness, he slipped 
away to his dressing-room again. 

" Hardly had we fairly recovered from our 
laughter, when the mimic came out again, 
dressed in his loose shirt, his flowing cotton 
breeches, reaching to the knee, and his moc- 
casons. As he reached us, he said, ' Merica- 
no' and stopped close to the fire. He held his 
outspread hands over it a moment, then rubbed 
them together, as he would do in washing, 
and turned his head away in disgust from im- 
aginary smoke. Next, turning his back to the 
fire, he raised one foot a while towards the 
heat, then the other. Turning round, he 
again held out his hands, and drew closer to 
the fire. His back soon getting cold, he had 
to present that to the heat again, allowing his 
front half to cool awhile. And thus he turned 
round and round, till we were all convulsed at 
his accurate imitation of the way a white man 
acts when by a camp-fire on a very cold night. 
He went through the same operation to rep- 
resent the Mormons, and again retired. 

" We began to consider it a ' big show,' and 
anxiously waited for the actor to appear in a 
new character. He was somewhat longer than 
usual ; but when he came, he was dressed 
in complete Navajo costume — finely-stitched 
red moccasons, with turned-up raw-hide soles, 
and brass buttons; red buckskin leggings, 
with scalloped edges, fastened just below the 
knee by long scarlet garters, tipped with 
fringe ; the cotton breeches ; red sash ; cotton 
shirt, hanging loose, like a coat, reaching to 
his waist; the heavj^, striped blanket folded 
about his shoulders; the turban, of gayly- 
colored cloth ; and the long bow, with the 
fancy fur quiver full of arrows, hanging at his 
back. He walked to the fire with a graceful 
dignity, and stood before it, motionless, re- 
marking, with a quiet smile, — 

" ' Navajo ! ' 



" This, then, was the way the noble Navajo 
conducted himself in camp. Surely he threw 
no discredit on his race ; for if all appeared 
as he did that night by the fire, we might 
truthfully speak of them as ' some noble red 
men.' 

" His show was not done yet. As soon as 
he had exhibited his finery sufficiently, he 
threw off the bow and blanket, and picked up 
one of their peculiar riding-whips. The near- 
est thing I can liken these whips to is a ' cat- 
o'-nine-tails' with only /wo tails. Perhaps, in 
your younger days, 3'ou may have had the 
misfortune to encounter one of these animals. 
The Navajo whip would be even more fero- 
cious in a hand-to-hand fight. Saying ' Co- 
manche,' and ' Navajo,' our mimic went 
through a series of motions representing 
fighting. He showed the result by placing 
himself astride an imaginary horse, in the 
position of rapid riding, and, glancing behind, 
with a countenance full of fear, he laid the 
whip heavily on his steed's quarters. ' Co- 
manche, Comanche!' he shouted, meaning 
that the Comanche had turned tail, and was 
riding away, to live and bravely fight another 
day. In the same way he showed that in fight- 
ing, with the Utes, — not Pi Utes, — it was 
they who were victorious at times, and at oth- 
ers it was the Utes. The Apaches were illus- 
trated similarly ; and then he donned his 
blanket again, and seated himself beside his 
red brothers. His performance had far ex- 
ceeded our expectations, for, though we had 
seen many Navajoes, never before had we 
found one whose dramatic ability was so pow- 
erful. To an enterprising showman he would 
be worth an immense fortune. 

"Now it was growing late, and the darken- 
ing countenances of the Indians plainly said, 
' Good night.' Therefore we took the hint, 
and retired to our own quarters. The next 
day they took their departure, and we shook 
hands with the lively mimic regretfully. 

" When Navajoes travel, some go on foot, 
and some on horses. The horses carry rolls 
of blankets, which are traded for horses. And 
rarely does the pedestrian make the return 
trip on foot. If he cannot trade for a horse, 
he sometimes steals one; but these cases are 
not frequent. 

"When Pi Utes and Navajoes get together, 
they are as courteous to each other as so many 
white hypocrites would be ; but, nevertheless, 
you can easily arrive at the Navajo opinion of 
the Pi Ptes, when you consider the mimic's 
represeni.ition." 

Here the General related several anecdotes 



136 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



of the Pi Utes and Navajoes, which I shall 
have to omit, recording the following in- 
stead ; — 

" The Pi Utes," he said, " represent, as you 
are aware, almost the very lowest grade of the 
native American ; and hence we are not sur- 
prised that they frighten themselves when they 
undertake any piece of extraordinary daring. 
Probably it is this very trait which has caused 
them to be of so little trouble to the whites. 
They have offered little resistance to the 
' course of empire ; ' and whenever they re- 
sent an injury, they do it with absolute safety 
to themselves. Still, they have watched the 
white man's fast-accumulating power closely, 
but usually content themselves with accepting 
the more rapidly accumulating refuse victuals. 








i' m 




w "« 



Cactus Apple. 

" Several times they have attempted resist- 
ance, but have each time failed. Whenever 
I reflect on the approaching fate of the whole 
red nation, the words of a chief — who was 
discussing the advance of civilization, the util- 
ization of their lands, and the destruction of 
their game, with an American — ring in my 
ears. He exclaimed, sadly shaking his head, 
and with solemn accent, '■Ak-kan' ega, a/i-kati'e- 
ga, nueny shnmi f ('Why, why, I think!') 
And may we not also exclaim, 'why.?' What a 
deep, cjeep mystery is in that one word ! This 
chief sorrowfully admitted that the white man 
might have the best right to the country, as 
they made it useful and productive; but still 
he wondered 'why.' 

"The Pi Ute tribe is not all in one band, 
but is divided into several parties, each of 
which is ruled by a ' 7ieav,' or captain. These 
subdivisions each have a certain section of 
country, which they claim as their own, and 
other Indians never trespass, except on a visit, 
or in war. The whole region inhabited bv 



the Pi Utes is sterile and rocky. Their food 
consists principally of wild rabbits, which 
are astonishingly numerous in the sage brush, 
and varieties of grass seed. How you laugh 
at the idea of living on grass seed ! but I tell 
you an energetic Indian will get fat on it, and 
would stay so if he could have a continual 
harvest. Could you see a bushel or two ready 
for grinding, you could not resist the tempta- 
tion of tasting a handful or so; and you would 
find it no mean food, either. 

" Of the different varieties of these seeds, 
those called ' Ah,^ and ' PaskC are found most 
abundant. Pash is a very fine seed, hard to 
collect, while ak is much coarser, and, I might 
say, is their matji stay. The Santa Clara In- 
dians cultivate large fields of ak, which sup- 
ply them with a proportionate amount of food. 
In collecting the grass seed crops, — which, 
of course, is done by the women, — a large 
conical basket, of their own manufacture, is 
taken, and held in the left hand before the 
feathery tops of the grass. Then, with the 
right hand, the tops are struck by a kind of 
small cradle, and the fine seed drops into the 
basket. In this way, by going from cluster to 
cluster of the grass, the basket is finally filled, 
and the old woman trips away to the wicky- 
ups, with her load held on her back by a 
thong around a strange conical or acorn- 
shaped hat which she Avears, well satisfied with 
her work. 

" I forgot to speak of the rabbits. Without 
these the Pi Utes would be almost destitute, 
for sometimes their ak and pash fail; but the 
rabbits never do. Usually they hunt these 
animals with their bows or their guns; but at 
intervals a whole band will proceed to a spot 
known to contain a large number, where they 
will stretch a fine net — made from the bark 
of a species of rhilk-weed, for the purpose — 
around the sage brush, in the form of a semi- 
circle, whose radius is three hundred feet or 
more. The rabbits are then drummed up and 
headed into this net, where they are caught in 
the meshes until the savages can kill them. 

" The skins of the rabbits they twist into 
long ropes. These ropes are then sewed to- 
gether in the form of a robe, or cloak ; and 
often some poor wretches will have no other 
covering. The robes, though, are warm, and 
are not to be hooted at by any one. 

" The ' mescal ' of the Mexicans is also a 
favorite food of the Pi Utes, who cook it, or, 
inore correctly, bake it, in large pits, which- 
are first heated by a fire, then the 'yant' put 
in, covered with stones, and a fire built on the 
top. This mescal, or yant, is a variety of yuc- 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 



137 



ca, with broad, bayonet-like leaves, fringed 
on each side with small, crooked spines, or 
hooks. The plant resembles the top of a pine- 
apple, and from the centre of the cluster of 
leaves a slender stalk shoots up, similar to 
young asparagus, attaining a great height, — 
the tallest I ever saw was about twenty feet, — 
hard and fibrous. When this shoot first 
sprouts from the plant, the ' head' of yant — 
the core of the plant — is cut out, and subject- 
ed to the baking, which makes it tender, and 
sweet as honey. The Indians take it into the 
settlements, sometimes, and easily trade it for 
flour or old bread. 

"After yant the Pi Utes also gather for food 
the Indian fig, or 'cactus apple,' the ' oose ' 
apple, and the nut of the piiion pine. 

"All varieties of cacti grow very rankly in 
Arizona. The one wliicli bears the largest 
and best fruit is a great, sprawling plant, cov- 
ered with the most detestable spines conceiv- 
able. Its branches are composed of large, 
flat ovals, alternately at right angles with each 
other. Fields of these are as formidable as an 
army of bayonets; and one has to follow up 
some ravine or watercourse to get through 
them. Head a horse for a contemptibly small 
bush, and when he arrives at it, he will jump 
high enough to clear a church spire. As an 
illustration of the top oval of one of these ve- 
getable tarantulas, hold up your hand, and 
spread it to its full extent. 

" The large crimson apples, shaped like an 
&^^ with the tip of the broad end cut off, grow 
around the edge of the top oval, precisely as 
your fingers stick up from the main part of 
your outspread hand. They appear delicious, 
and so they are; but the fuzzy spines which 
cluster over them will torment you terribly, if 
you are not exceedingly delicate in your move- 
ments. The Pi Ute takes a bunch of fine grass, 
and gently dusts oflf all these spines before he 
plucks the fruit. He collects a large quantity, 
which he takes to his camp, where the juice is 
pressed out, and collected in wicker jugs. The 
pulp that remains is rolled up compactly, and 
put away for dessert, while the juice ferments, 
and forms a kind of wine, upon whicli they 
very often get intoxicated. 

"The 'oose apple' grows abundantly, in 
large clusters, on another species of yucca, 
and looks temptingly luscious in August, when 
they ripen, and turn to a rich golden color. 
They are long in shape, — a little like a cu- 
cumber, — and onlv the outside is fit to eat. 
You taste them, and find them to be so very 
sweet that they nauseate you, making you 
wonder how anybody can manage to eat them ; 



notwithstanding, some people, who get used 
to them, think they are better than any other 
fruit. 

'• Pirion pine nuts grow in cones, examples 
of which you find hanging to the trees around 
here; so I will say nothing more about them. 

" With a few wildcats, birds, and squirrels, 
and rats, the things I have enumerated con- 
stitute the food of the Pi Ute division of some 
noble red men." 

Plere I again make a skip to where the Gen- 
eral begins the description of a Pi Ute dance. 

" Round a cedar tree, stripped of all its fo- 
liage but a tuft at the top, the Indians were 
circling, in that sidling double-shuffle so pe- 
culiar, accompanied by tlieir monotonous sing- 
ing, sounding all alike to a stranger, but every 
song having a definite set of words. 

■' In some of the wicky-ups, before flaring 
fires, sat men and women dressed in their gay- 
est attire, and with their faces hideously paint- 
ed in yellow, red, and black, who were laugh- 
ing and chatting as merrily as happy children 
on Christmas morning. All was gayety and 
hullabaloo. We distributed presents of to- 
bacco and vermilion, heightening their hap- 
piness considerably. The'_^(?e/' announced 
new songs, and they howled away at them in 
their broken-jawed manner, keeping time with 
great accuracy, 'in the circular toggle-jointed 
quiclvstep, round the dismantled cedar. 

" Some of my companions elbowed their 
way into the circle, and hobbled around, for 
the novelty of the thing; but the rest of us 
didn't relish such close proximity to them. 
When asked why we did not also participate, 
we said we did not like dancing — it was 
against our principles. 

" I will sing you two or three of tiieir songs. 
They are always short, but are repeated over 
and over again, with numberless variations. 

' Ca shakum pooki, 
Ca shalcum te ki, 
Ca shakum pooki, 
Ca shakum te ki, ' 

and so forth. Anotlier. 

» ' Monterei ma, Moquoatcld ma, 
Umpa shu, shu-ra-ga-va, 
Umpa shu, shu-ra-ga-va, 
Umpaga-va, shu-ra-ga-va, 
Monterei ma, Moquonteki ma,' 

and so forth. ' Kamuss,' another. ' 

' Ta su wont toe gump pi ava, 
' Toe gunt te lats, 

Ta su wont toe gump pi ava, 
Toe gunt te lats.*' 

And, lastly, one which I consider a reallv me- 



138 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



lodious composition. Beginning low, the song 
gradually rises and falls, thusly : — 

'Yah, yah, queen-io, qiieen-io, queen-io, 
Queen-io, qiieen-io, yah, yah, queen-io. 
Queen-am pooney, queen-io, queen-am pooney, 
Queen-io, yah, yah, queen-io,' 

and so forth. 

" Now I will translate. The first song means 
that you must catch a rabbit before you eat 
him, or, 'No rabbit kill, no rabbit eat.' The 
second is of obscure meaning. It is some- 
thing about a long talk, and boring a hole in 
a clilf ; so it is safe to conclude that it means 
that a long talk is a great bore. The third is, — 

' When the morning is in the sky, 
Then the unfriendly lats — ' 

lats is the Ute name for the Mojaves, and 
means 'beautiful men.' The song relates the 
legend of the wars with the lats, who pounced 
upon them at break of day. The fourth ex- 
ample advises you to examine a stranger's 
track well before you trust him, and is well 
represented by the proverb, ' Before you make 
a friend, eat a peck of salt with him.' Anoth- 
er song told about how the great mountain 
was sick and trembled, meaning the eruption 
of Mt. San Francisco. 



" Still another sings, ' During the storm the 
waters pour down the mountain gulches in 
feathery torrents;' and so forth, and so on, 
many of the rude words expressing a world of 
poetry." 

We next listened to more tales of interest in 
regard to the noble red men — how the ghosts 
of old women, in the forms of " Woonupitz," 
danced around in the darkness about the red 
men's camps ; how they sang at intervals, to 
break the chann of this •' Woonupitz; " how 
" Tav-ivanaraganumfi " performed great mira- 
cles with his terrible fire-ball wielded in his 
left hand, and a host of other things, " too 
numerous to mention." 

The General concluded with an apology for 
not making his lecture better; but we assured 
him that he deserved a gold medal, and should 
have one — provided we could find the gold. 

"Well," he said, with that peculiar sparkle 
of his bright eyes, as he took a fresh " chaw " 
of the vile weed, " I resign this rostrum, with- 
out animosity, to my illustrious successor."' 

The remnant of the autumn days glided by, 
pleasantly interspersed, for variety's sake, by 
our alternating lectures, until word came over 
the mountain for us to change our base ; and 
next month you shall hear about " Last Days 
— Farewell — Old Friends." 




J , - 'H^^l I ,"i»' 




The Hunters' Camp. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



139 




" Hello, Boys I " Page 142. 



THE CAMP m THE &ULOH. 

VI. — LAST DAYS. FAREWELL. OLD 
FRIENDS. 

BY JUSTIN DALE. 

DAYS in the gulch passed pleasantly by. 
Evenings were devoted, as I have shown, 
to a system of lectures, organized both for 
pleasure and profit. Still there was a long- 
ing to cross the mountain, and join our old 
friends once more ; and as the autum.n days 
drew to a close, this longing grew more in- 
tense. The interval of idleness had been re- 
freshing, but now was getting tiresome. The 
days were filled with perpetual sunshine. It 
was monotonous ; and we thought that after 
crossing the great plateau, we might find a 
storm, — a blustering storm, — for variety. 

It came to pass that we did not have to wait 
till we could get on the western slope of the 
kibab for a storm. One day, at evening, the 
sun had to push his way behind the mountain 
through a mass of dull gray clouds, which 
cut off his "good-night" rays much earlier 
than usual. They crept slowly over the sky, 
and when in the zenith, feathery flakes flut- 
tered into the gulch, and the valley was hid- 
den from our sight by the curtain of " beauti- 
ful snow." 



When we are comfortably sheltered, what a 
charm there is in storm, and especially in a 
snow-storm which steals upon us so softly, so 
gently, and, seeminglj^, so harmlessly. Though 
one may be shivering with cold, if he observe 
the wavering flakes, of such delicate construc- 
tion, he must exclaim, "Beautiful snow!" If 
not of a poeti;[;al turn of mind, though, he will 
fail to be interested in a snow-storm, or any 
other, unless, as I said first, he is comfortably 
sheltered. Seated in a cosy parlor, perhaps, 
reading the story of some traveller's wandering, 
and ever and anon glancing out of the window 
to admire the large flakes as they pile up in the 
street and on the roofs of the houses. At such 
times, as he reads exciting events, he thinks 
how nice itwould be braving this storm, or hav- 
ing this or that narrow escape from destruc- 
tion ; or what a great thing it would be to have 
a skirmish with the Indians. It is astonishing 
how quick the singing bullet or the whizzing 
arrow takes the romantic starch out of all 
these ideas, and leaves them to stand support- 
ed only by the bare facts — anything but pleas- 
ant. 

Thinking over the Captain's lecture on the 
Unknown River, you imagine it to have been 
delightful to sail along between the grand old- 
walls, or to enjo}' the excitement of running 
a rapid; but once become initiated in these 



140 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



scenes, and you would quickly wish 3'ourself 
back again. 

When jou read Robinson Crusoe, did jou 
not think he had an enviously "splendid" 
time all alone on his desert isle? Or have you 
not often wished yourself a member of the 
" Swiss Family Robinson," to roam freely over 
the tropical Eden? The fault is, that in con- 
sidering these subjects, we magnify the pleas- 
ures and diminish the dangers and discom- 
forts, till all appears in the same light — a light 
of overdrawn imagination. 

From these words my readers draw this con- 
clusion : " There is no place like hoine ;''' and 
if you are so fortunate as to have a home, my 
advice is, stay there and be happy, instead of 
wishing to be somewhere else — "to chase 
the antelope over the plain," and all that sort 
of thing; for "a rolling stone gathers no 
moss;" and if you once get started at this 
wandering life, you will never be content in 
one place. 

But it is not my intention to inveigle you 
into reading a sugai'-coated sermon ; so, beg- 
ging pardon for the digression, I return to the 
camp in the gulch. 

The snow-storm which drew me into the 
above remarks prevented us from enjoying the 
evening in the open air, and we took advan- 
tage of the shelter afFoi-ded by our little tent. 

The prospects were that we should have to 
crawl between the blankets rather early, in 
preference to sitting in darkness, or in the 
snow by the declining fire. Imagine our sur- 
prise when the Captain drew from his little 
" ditty-box" almost the half of a candle. 
Where he had picked it up* would be hard 
to state. He was one of those persons who 
have a place for everything, and invariably 
put everything in its place. 

The valuable bit of candle was lit, and threw 
a warming, mellowradiance through the storm- 
assailed house. Following up his triumph of 
the candle, the Captain produced three or four 
copies of monthly magazines, old numbers, 
which had been received hy mail months be- 
fore, and slung into a corner of some old 
camp, after a hasty perusal, to decay unmo- 
lested. Yet here they were, tied up in a neat 
bundle, — thanks to the Captain's character- 
istic trait, — and we were glad enough to take 
them, and read the articles which before 'had 
been skipped in the abundance of reading 
matter. 

We read along, and became interested in 
various compositions, not noticing the flight 
of time. At last the Captain, happening to 
glance at the pocket chronometer hanging to 



the standard, announced that it was nine 
o'clock, and stepped out to take a barometri- 
cal observation. He stopped by the door 
when he returned, and said, as he shook the 
snow off, — 

" I tell you what it is, boys, this is a cosy 
little place," entering. " I wonder how much 
longer we will have to stay here ! Seems to 
ine about time that orders came to us to pull 
up stakes, and come on." 

" So it does to me," said the Pirate; " and 
accordingly I want to proclaim a revelation 
which I have had in regard to the matter. My 
vision shows me that this storm will not last 
long. To-morrow will be warm, and the snow 
will melt, and before dark a messenger will 
arrive with advices." 

"You base your revelation on substantial 
ground, and I see no reason why it should fail 
any more than succeed. It's time some one 
came ; and I say, tell them to come as quick as 
they will. I, for one, am getting tired of this 
place. I've explored the whole valley, and 
half the kibab. Don't know what to do next, 
in the daytime. About tiie time hard weather 
sets in, we'll have to be staving ai'ound the 
country. That's just the way it goes," growled 
the General. 

" You wait until to-morrow-night," the Pi- 
rate replied, " and you will pronounce me a 
' prophet' jzJrtr excellence." 

" We'll have to wait, whether we want to or 
not," observed the Captain, looking up from 
the magazine, which had again absorbed 
him. 

"Then," said I, " let us pass several hours 
of the time exploring in Dreamland, for it is 
not too early to turn in ; the tent begins to feel 
colder, and Cap wants to save a fragment of 
his candle for another emergency." 

"True," exclaimed the Captain. "I will 
give you just two minutes and a half to get 
under cover." 

At the end of that time not a sound was 
heard but the wild moan of the wind, as it 
flew around the sharp corners of the cliffs, and 
the musical snore of the Pirate, in rivalry. 

Clear and cold came the morning. The 
clouds had disappeared, verifying a portion 
of the Pirate's prophecy. The snow on a level 
was only a few inches deep, and, as it adorned 
the reddish hills, recalled to my mind the va- 
rieties of Christmas pastry, which we boys 
used to admire in the window of a little bakery 
around the corner from my old home. 

Northward, on the trail over the hills, tram- 
pling down the imitation " frosting," I took a 
walk, when the sun was well up, for exercise. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 



[41 



I had not gone far before a large gray wolf 
made his appearance, and trotted along in a 
parallel course, a few yards off, for some dis- 
tance. He held his head down, in a bashful 
sort of a way, and licked his chops, as much 
as to say, — 

"Ugh! but this is a cold morning, and not 
a rabbit can I find anywhere. Ton look- ten- 
der and tempting, and for two cents, or less, 
I'd prepare you for my dinner. So look out ! " 

Thinks I, "Well, Mr. Wolf, you're an im- 
pudent vagabond, any way, to become my 
companion on my morning's stroll, without 
so much as barking good morning; and had I 
my rifle here, I would play you a nice tune to 
dance by. You are gaunt and shaggy, and 
would make a fine target." 

My gun was safe in camp, and all I could 
do was to throw stones at the vicious-looking 
creature. At this he reconsidered the matter, 
and slunk away over the verge of a hill. I 
concluded my walk, and returned to camp, 
without seeing a sign of another animate be- 
ing, except the tracks of coyotes and rabbits. 
I found that the Pirate had been out in a south- 
erly direction. 

" If I had only had my gun this morning! 
but it's just my luck to be without it when I 
want it. A coyote was coming along the same 
way I was, and he paid no more attention to 
me than he would if I had been a cedar tree. 
It made me mad. I hit him in the side with 
a big rock, and he picked himself up and 
walked off"." 

I related my interview. 

" It is indeed time that we were moving away 
from here, if cowardly coyotes are getting so 
bold. They'll eat one of you delicate fellows 
up yet, if you don't mind your eyes," remarked 
Cap. 

"I don't believe these are coyotes that we 
saw this morning," I said. " They are too 
large, and the one I saw was a dirty gray 
color. I think they are mountain-wolves, 
driven from the timber to the warmer valley 
by last night's snow." 

" You must be right, for something larger 
than an ordinary coyote reached two or three 
of my skins last night, and I can't find a shred 
of them," said Cap. " What are you laugh- 
ing at.?" to the Pirate. 

" Why, the General's making a ginger- 
bread ! " 

And so he was. He had found a can of 
ginger amongst the rations, and had stirred 
up some flour, and water, and cream of tartar, 
and saleratus, and sugar, to which he added 
about one half the ginger. At the moment 



the discovery was made, he was putting the 
mixture into a small tin pan. 

" Perhaps you'll laugh the other way, my 
friend, when this cake is baked, and you find 
you can't have any." 

" I am sorry, for it looks delicious. But 
where did you get the recipe?'" inquired the 
Pirate, sarcastically. 

" ' /?e5-/-^ee / ' What's that.'' O, you mean 
recei-pt." 

The General had a habit, at times, of pre- 
tending to be very ignorant. 

" No, I don't mean receipt, either. A re- 
ceipt is a written acknowledgment — " 

" Well," laughed the General, " I didn't have 
a written acknowledgment for the gingerbread, 
but perhaps I'll want one before I get through." 

"Then, did you have a recipe — a prescrip- 
tion.-' " 




'■ Tearing through a mass of hard branches." 



" A prescription.' No, I made my own pre- 
scription. But no wonder an ex-prescription 
druggist got ahead of me on recipe. I, being 
nothing but an old backwoodsman, can't un- 
derstand recipe, when I've always heard it 
pronounced receipt.'" 

" You heard it pronounced wrong, then." 

" Never mind ; it won't make the cake any 
better." 

This ended the recipe argument. It was a 
regular source of amusement in camp — this 
controversy on words. If one mispronounced 
a word, either through carelessness or igno- 
rance, some one was sure instantly to challenge 
him; and, unless he confessed his error, he 
was called upon to dispute the authority of 
several editions of Webster, with which we 
were, fortunately, only too well supplied. 

The General's gingerbread baked slowly. 



142 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH, 



It was not done till long after dinner; and we 
concluded to keep it for supper, first sampling 
it, to see that it was good. It was a little 
"sad," and rather sweet; but we called it 
" double-extra." 

The afternoon passed quickly away, and 
another point of the Pirate's prophecy was 
fulfilled: it grew so warm that the few inches 
of snow disappeared rapidly. As it turned 
cold again towards evening, the melting 
ceased, leaving patches of snow for to-mor- 
row's sun to act upon. Supper time came. 

" What do you think of your brilliant reve- 
lation now, my friend.'"' asked the General of 
the Pirate. 

" I said he would come before dark; and it 
isn't dark yet. I have a chance left." 

"A mighty slim one," said the Captain. 

I was just raising a piece of gingerbread to 
my mouth, when I happened to glance to- 
wards the hills bounding the south-western 
side of the gulch. Twilight's hngering rays 
still illumined the sky with a soft light, and 
against this background I saw the form of a 
huge animal loom up. Hoping that it might 
be my morning friend, I exclaimed, " Look 
there ! " and, snatching my rifle, hurried up. 
The animal was gone when I arrived at the 
point. I hunted around some; but the twi- 
light rapidly faded, compelling me to go back. 

Hardly had I reached a position halfway to 
the camp, when I heard a long, familiar yell 
echo faintly from far up the va.Uey. An in- 
stant more, and I was beside the fire. 

" Did you hear that.'"' I asked. 

"What.'' We didn't hear anything." 

" Listen." 

All was silent a moment; then we heard, 
" E-e-e-i-i-i-hooo-0-0 " die away amongst the 
rocks. 

" Johnson ! " they exclaimed. 

It was the looked-for messenger. 

"Now, az'n't I a prophet.?" asked the Pi- 
rate. 

" It's dark, ' said Cap. 

" O, you can't expect me to make too close 
a connection. You must be generous, and al- 
low that I am endowed with extraordinary 
power. Remember that I wasn't among the 
Mormons for nothing." 

" Very well ; hereafter you shall be Prophet 
instead of Pirate. Does that suit you.''" in- 
quired Cap. 

" It does." 

" Hello, boys ! " shouted Johnson, as he rode 
into the gulch, leading a pack-animal. " How 
are 3'ou all, any way?" 

He dismounted, and the tinkling of his large 
Mexican spurs sounded like the ornaments on 



the coat of Si. Nicholas, as he handed us a 
package of letters. The pack was soon off, 
and in the alfogas we discovered some apples, 
a canteen of native wine, and some dried 
grapes. 

The mail first claimed attention; but after 
it, we gathered closer to the fire, to talk mat- 
ters over, and eat fruit. Orders were to break 
the camp in the gulch, and move to a spring 
in a low line of cliffs, fifteen miles from the 
western verge of the plateau. It was now Sat- 
urday night. Sunday we concluded to spend 
in getting things arranged; and Monday 
morning we would start for our new camp. 

The Sabbath sun beamed peacefully upon 
the quiet little camp, and by noon we had 
everything as much in order as was possible. 
The afternoon passed off as quietly as usual, 
and in the evening, Johnson — who hailed 
from Oregon ; had mined and prospected on 
Snake River, and in different parts of Idaho 
— related stories of his adventures with In- 
dians ; told us of the wonderful rich leads he 
had owned at various times ; how he had once 
ridden an elk on a wager; and how he had 
hunted six months for " The Lost Cabin," * 
but failed to find it; told us such tales as a 
miner would tell who had " rustled sage " from 
childhood, and who had spent at least two 
thirds of his life in the saddle. 

At last it came bed-time once more, and our 
last evening at the camp in the gulch was 
ended. Until to-morrow we would sink into 
the oblivion of sleep, from which we should 
wake to take our departure. How soon to- 
morrow is to-day, and to-day is yesterday ! 
Sunshine had scarce crept into the gulch ere 
our tent was struck and our packs were ready. 
But think us not too smart. Owing to the 
height of the cliffs, the sunlight did not enter 
the gulch till about nine o'clock. Still our 
start would have been early, as it should have 
been to make thirty miles, and to climb up 
and down many times, had it not been for two 
bronchos which refused to be caught. We had 
to resort to the lariat, which we tried to avoid, 
as it makes a wild animal all the wilder. John- 
son easily threw a lasso on each of them, and 
we led them down to the site of our old camp, 
where the packs were slung on, sinched on, 
and sinched as tightly as our strength would 
permit. 

One moment more, and our riding-saddles 
were on ; the train formed in line, and filed 
slowly out of the gulch, and away from the 
spot whose every stone had become familiar 

* For the story of "The Lost Cabin," I refer any who are 
interested to a number of the Overland Monthly, for about 
December, 1872. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 



H3 



to our eyes. It seemed hard to desert the 
place, and leave it to the coyotes and the 
ravens. I looked behind as we reached the 
summit of the bounding hill, to catch a fare- 
well view of the rock-bound home. 

There was the square of yellow canes which 
had cushioned our tent; the little pine close 
to the fire ; the stone seats ; the trail to the 
spring. All was lying quiet as the grave, and 
made me feel as though I were miles away. 
Down poured the sun with his usual steadi- 
ness ; lazily little wreaths of smoke curled up 
from the smouldering fire. A raven sailed up, 
and perched silently on the pine where our 
beef had hung. Another, with motionless 
wings, sailed in and out of the angles of the 
clifi's, uttering a shout of, " Go-on, go-on, go- 
on ! " The advice was useless. The hills and 
trees shut off the picture, and we were fairly 
at sea. In a short time we climbed the kibab, — 
where our advance party had ascended, — and 
entered the forest. 

Johnson said that one of the party had en- 
countered a world of trouble. He was wear- 
ing a broadcloth coat, which had done service 
at his wedding some years before, and which 
he prized very highly. He thought it would 
be romantic to wear it through this country ; 
it would add to its value as a family relic. The 
horse he rode must have thought that a few 
honorable rents would also add to its value, 
for he persisted in going as close to the sharp- 
pointed dead branches of the cedars as he 
could without doing himself injury. So it was 
that this man with the wedding-coat had to 
keep a sharp lookout. As long as he watched 
him, the horse behaved very well, and his rider 
would begin to think that all was going on 
right, and would relapse into fond recollec- 
tions of distant home and friends, gradually 
slacking the reins till the cayoose had his 
head. Then, the first thing he knew, he would 
find himself tearing through a mass of hard 
branches; and while the old coat yielded in 
dozens of places without a sigh, its wearer 
struggled hard to extricate himself from the 
broken limbs that clung to him, and the 
mountain-glades shouted back wdth exasper- 
ating intensity the laughter of his companions 
and his own unlimited curses. By the tiine he 
got through the timber his dear old coat was 
minus half a sleeve, part of the tail was gone, 
and there was not a foot of uninjured material 
to be found in it. 

Although we regretted our old friend's mis- 
fortune exceedingly, we could not help enjoy- 
ing the story of his troubles. Fie was an ab- 
surdly eccentric fellow any wav; but his best 



" hold " was swearing. He swore so well that 
it was only at extraordinary times that any 
one else was called upon to attempt the feat. 
He never started in for a few mild exclama- 
tions — not he. The way he did it was to reel 
out yard after yard of blasphemy, until he was 
obliged to stop for breath. Then somebody 
would inquire, "What's the matter.?" " O, 
nothing," he would reply; "I can't find the 
hammer," or, "My saddle won't stay sinched," 
or something similar. 

We laughed as we passed trees at intervals, 
whose broken branches recorded the tale of 
the aged wedding-coat. 




The Pirate. 

On account of the great weight of our packs, 
we were compelled to move slowly; and "two 
hours by sun " found us on the verge of a long, 
beautiful valley, not very deep, but two miles 
or moi-e wide. When we arrived at its farther 
side, we concluded that the day's work had 
been enough for the stock, and we w^ould camp. 
We selected a sheltered spot in the thick ever- 
greens, and threw off" the packs. There was 
no water; but small patches of snow here and 
there would refresh the animals, and nve could 
rely on the filled canteens, besides two small 
water-kegs, which were full. 

Wood was plentiful. An immense fire was 
quickly built, and shot its flames up into the 
clus'ters of green needles, making them crackle 
merrily. The General went to work to get 
the supper, with the assistance of the Pirate, 
while we three that remained took the horses 
out to an opening, where there was good feed, 
and Jiopfled them. To hopple an animal is to 
fasten its fore legs together, — about eight 
inches apart, — just above the fetlock joint. 
Any old rope or strap will do for a hopple; 
but generally an " outfit " has straps made for 
the purpose, with buckles. The object in hop- 



144 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH 



pling, jou can plainly see, is to prevent jour 
stock from wandering too far, and to make 
them easier to be caught. Where grass grows 
continuously, as in the east, " picketing " with 
a lariat and stake would answer as well, per- 
haps better. But where the " feed " consists of 
bunch-grass, — which grows, as its name in- 
dicates, in bunches, — the stock must be al- 
lowed to travel in order to get enough to eat, 
and still must be checked from going too far. 

When the animals were all hoppled, we went 
back to camp, and found supper ready. It 
does not take long to prepare a mountain 
meal. For bread, you mix the necessary 
quantity of flour, a little saleratus, a double 
amount of cream of tartar, and a pinch of salt. 
Next, add water, to form dough, and after it 
is sufliciently kneaded, it is placed in a Dutch 
oven, which is then set on a bed of live coals; 
the lid is put on, and covered with coals, 
and the bread left to bake. A Dutch oven is 
simply a flat-bottomed, circular, cast-iron ar- 
rangement, five or six inches deep, and sup- 
plied with a convex lid. 

Sometimes bread is baked in frying-pans, 
and is then called frying-pan bread. It is the 
easier waj"^, when the party consists of only 
three or four. The dough is made into a thin 
cake the size of the pan, and placed in it, after 
the bottom has been greased by a piece of ba- 
con, to prevent the loaf from sticking; then it 
is held on the fire a moment, to give the bot- 
tom some solidity, after which it is propped up 
in front of the blaze by a stick, and soon puff's 
up, or rises, and bakes through. 

At supper we discussed a name for the fine 
valley in which we were camped, and Johnson 
suggested " Summit." 

"Summit Valley let it be, then," said the 
Captain, "since it is on the summit of the 
plateau." 

When the camp was arranged for the night, 
a pack of cards made their appearance from 
Johnson's cate?tas (pockets on the horn of the 
saddle), and my four companions amused 
themselves by playing euchre. 

For no particular reason, I dislike cards, and 
have never played; so I selected a spot under 
a pine, close to the fire, which was cushioned 
by the fallen spines, and, lying down, aban- 
doned myself to reverie. 

At intervals I would hear the Pirate exclaim 
to his partner, " Now, don't let them bluff you, 
General, don't let them bluff" you," and similar 
sayings. Following this would come the usual 
discussion of card-players, as to whether this 
or that card had been played right. The Gen- 
eral ought to have trumped this, or played an 
ace for that; Johnson didn't play this the way 



the Captain had always played it before, and 
so forth. I have never seen a game played 
yet where there was not an astonishing amount 
of mulishness shown on all sides. 

Next morning we climbed the west line of 
the valley, and after dodging through more 
thick timber, and around gulches, we came 
out upon. the almost barren slope. A scene 
spread out before us fully equal to the one 
from the eastern edge. Mountains, canons, 
and cliffs, — cliffs, canons, and mountains, — 
everywhere. Johnson pointed out to us the 
cliff's, lying some fifteen miles away, wherein 
was located our next camping-ground. When 
we emerged from the foot-hills, we found a 
nloderately level bottom, stretching away to 
the cliffs. 

About noon we passed round the head of a 
mud caiion, which began abruptly in a level 
space. Had we not been fortified by the Cap- 
tain's lecture on the Unknown River, we should 
have been puzzled as to why it had broken in 
so suddenly; but by thinking a moment, we 
perceived that it was simply the last point to 
which the action of an intermittent creek had 
worn its " plunge." 

As the sun — our travelling gauge — ap- 
proached the western horizon, we drew nearer 
our haven ; and as he sank from sight, we 
passed the first salient point into a gap about 
a half a mile wide. 

Several horses were seen grazing a short 
distance off, and we knew that old friends 
were near. Passing a chocolate-colored hill, 
we turned to the right, into a sheltered gulch, 
not unlike that of House Rock Spring, and, 
suddenly emerging from a clump of cedars, 
we saw, in an open space, two heavy wagons, 
with snow-white covers ; a camp-fire ; heaps 
of saddles, harnesses, rations, and so forth, 
scattered around, and several individuals, all 
of whom, but one, proved to be old friends, 
and gave us a hearty welcome. A new mail 
awaited us, and so much bustle going on 
around made us feel almost as though we had 
entered a large city. 

When the inner man was satisfied, blazing 
fires started up in different parts of the gulch, 
and around them clustered groups of "gay 
and free" explorers, some reading aloud, some 
singing, others still reclining in warm corners, 
with pipes or cigaritos in their mouths, .and 
meditating ; while the more practical were busy 
testing new boots, hats, pantaloons, gloves, &c. 
At intervals the envious yelps of the coyotes 
from the brink of the cliffs resounded through 
the camp, unusually close. They were always 
sure to be on hand when anything was pjo- 
ing on. 



THE CAMP IN THE GULCH. 



H5 



Presently two horsemen galloped in from 
the settlement eight miles away. One of them 
proved, to our surprise, to be the good old 
Deacon, who sang so lustily about the place 
where there would be no more sorrow. He 
was well and hearty, and looked as spruce as 
a city dandy, in his new clothes — a proof that 
his sickness had not harmed him any. 

Our " warbler " favored us with choice se- 
lections, such as " The Days of '49," " Always 
Gay and Free," " Colleen Bawn,'' and so 
forth, while the Captain made frantic efforts 
to blow a tune out of an harmonica, which he 
had picked up from amongst the rest of the 
" traps." He had hinted to me that he was 
going to strike out for civilization in the course 
of a month, but gave no very good reason ; so 
I did not heed his words. It came to pass, 
however, that our companion of the gulch 
did leave us for quieter scenes. 

They say all £-ood stories end with a mar- 



riage. In order that mine may not lack that 
redeeming quality, I will say that when the 
Captain reached the city bv the Salt Lake, he 
proceeded no farther, but joined in matrimo- 
ny's bond with a fair young saintess, who 
managed to capture him.* 

But I am trespassing. Properly, I finished 
my record of the Camp in the Gulch when we 
bade it farewell ; so, patient reader, as we join 
in the following " doxology," let us shake 
hands, and say, " Adieu." 

" I had comrades then who loved me well — 

A jovial, saucy crew. 
There were some /zard cases, I must confess. 

But still they were brave and true, 
Who never flinched whate'er ihey /'inched ; 

Would never fret or whine ; 
But like good old bricks, they stood the kicks, 

In the days of ' '49.' " 

* This doesn't agree with what I said about the gallant 
Captain in No. 1 ; but there is no help for it. It's so. 




146 



GETTING ON SEA-LEGS. 



GETTING ON SEA-LEGS. 



BY AN OLD SALT. 



PAKT I. 

HAVING a desire to see the world, and 
meet with adventure, I went to sea in a 
whaler. I had no doubt but what I would 
enjoy myself at sea ; but when I got there, I 
was a bit disappointed. 

I enjoyed myself while sailing down the bay 

— the Narragansett Bay — with the wind on 
our starboard quarter. Its shores were ver- 
dant and beautiful, and everything seemed 
lovely, on that last morning in May. We 
had been watching those verdant shores for a 
week, almost, waiting for a fair wind ; and it 
had come at last from the nor'-west. 

The nor'-west wind carried us out 
past Newport, till we were in sight 
of Block Island, — the first foreign 
land we saw, as some one remarked, 

— and then it left us ; and then I 
began to see the sea. My first recol- 
lections of it are indistinct, yet I 
retain impressions. I am Confident 
it had a greenish tinge, and it seemed 
very uneven. I remember that I felt 

— disappointed. It was so different 
from anything I had imagined, that 
I could not help feeling disappointed. 

I will not attempt to describe my 
feelings more minutely; for I do not 
wish to work upon anybody's sympa- 
thies ; and I doubt whether I could 
express all I felt in such a way that 
it would be understood by one who 
has not been to sea. I will merely 
say that I passed the last part of the 
day in the lee scuppers, in a reclining attitude, 
pensively meditating upon the sea, and look- 
ing at it occasionally through the hole they 
called the bow-port. At times the boat-steerer, 
called Tom, or somebody else, would ask me 
how it was coming on, — meaning the sea, 
probably, — but I seldom made any reply. 

They said it was calm ; but what made them 
think so, was more than I could tell ; it did not 
seem calm to me. There was no wind, it is 
true, but there was a great deal of motion. 
Whenever I looked out of the port — and it 
was quite often — the green waters seemed to 
rise up, in a mountain as it were, so high that 
I could not see the top of it. I had read about 
seas that were mountains high, and I saw that 
it was all true. But what there was about them 
that was grand or magnificent, was more than 
I could understand. 



At last they had supper, — a few of them, — 
and night came. I didn't care much about it 
then, and only mention it now because it must 
have been at about that time that I began to 
feel better. It was still calm, they said, and I 
suppose it must have been ; but whether it 
was or not, the boat-steerer, Tom, — short and 
dumpy, but a real good fellow, — persuaded 
me to drink about three quarts of salt water, — 
it don't take long to drink three quarts of salt 
water after you get it a going, — and pretty 
soon I began to feel better. Tom staid by, 
to keep me from going out through the port- 
hole ; and finally he took what there was left 
of me, and set it down beside him on the car- 
penter's bench, abaft the try-works. 

The moon was full, and I began to see that 
it was really calm, although there was still 




some motion. It was a beautit\il night, I have 
no doubt ; but I would much rather have been 
at home. Tom showed me Block Island ; but 
it didn't do me any good. Neither did the 
shimmering of the sea, nor anything else that 
I could see. How long I sat there I have for- 
gotten ; but that was the way I ended my first 
day at sea. 

I was very light for a few days, but Tom 
said it was most always so when one was 
getting his sea-legs on. We got out of the 
green water, to where it looked hard and blue, 
and yet it was not attractive. It was only the 
third night out, I think, that we had a blow, 
and I had an opportunity to help shorten sail. 
I would have preferred to stay on deck, but 
having got the impression that every man 
would be expected to do his duty, I went up 
— on to the main yard first — to help furl the 




PERILS OF THE SEA 



GETTING ON SEA LEGS 



149 



biggest sail in the ship. It was very fortunate 
that there was a strip of wood, called a jack- 
staj, on top of the yard. I held on to it, and 
edged away out, at the risk of my life, on a 
foot-rope that brought my chin up about to 
the top of the yard, and which, under the cir- 
cumstances, seemed a very unsafe thing to de- 
pend on. I didn't do so much furling as some 
of them, but I was there, holding on. I had 
no idea the sail was so large and so heavy, till 
I went up there to help furl it. 

But when the mainsail was stowed, we had 
to go up over the top ; which also seemed a 
dangerous thing to do. If I had fallen, I don't 
think I should have known it, for I never knew 
how I got up. But when I heard the mate's 
order to hold on while he squared in the yard, 
I knew I was there, away out half way to Tom, 
who sat astride of the very end of the yard, as 
unconcerned as if he had been born there. I 
couldn't see, for the life of me, why he didn't 
fall, particularly when the mate ordered us to 
hold on. I should have obeyed that order had 
it been only a request. Very likely it was in- 
tended for Tom, and not for me. It seemed a 
piece of recklessness on the mate's part to let 
that yard loose while we were all on it. But I 
found out that the object was to get the wind 
out of the sail, so that we could handle it more 
easily. Fortunately there were enough of us, 
so that, with what little I could do, we were 
able to manage it. When it was all over, and 
we were down on deck again, Tom said I was 
a capital hand aloft. He even hinted that I 
must go to the earing with him every time. 

Still I wondered what there could be that 
was attractive about the sea ; and, particularly, 
how those men could eat anything that came 
out of that — cook's galley ! The smell of it 
was enough for me. And the cook ! — I didn't 
love him then ; for he was a bareheaded, bare- 
breasted, barearmed, barefooted negro, with 
perspiration streaming and glistening all over 
him. How could the men relish their food ! 

One of the old hands learned us the ropes, 
— we green ones, — taking us round and call- 
ing every rope by name. I had no idea there 
were so many ropes in a ship before. There 
were tacks, sheets, braces, halyards, reef- 
tackles, buntlines, bowlines, clewlines, out- 
hauls, downhauls, &c., &c., a large variety of 
each, — except the cook's kettle halyards, of 
which there was but one, — and we must know 
just where to find each particular rope the in- 
stant an order was given ; and how to haul on 
it, too. At the same time we learned to box 
the compass, and to steer the ship. 

In a couple of weeks I knew the ropes, and 



could take my turn at the wheel. Still I had 
no appetite. I could eat hard tack, but any- 
thing that came out of the cook's coppers was 
too hearty. One wet night, when we had been 
out about two weeks, I got the first thing that 
tasted good. It rained that night, and I felt 
very sorry. I never had been used to standing 
out in the rain four hours at a time in the 
middle of the night at home, and I was afraid 
it wouldn't agree with me. I had some thought 
of saying so to the second mate, in whose watch 
I stood ; but remembering that he had on a 
good water-proof suit, I concluded not to. My 
clothes were not the kind that turned water, 
and it seemed a cold sort of rain. 

We men were allowed to stand in the lee of 
the house, aft, however, where there was not 
quite so much wind. I remember that some 
of us talked about home, and the best way to 
get there, and I got the impression that there 
were others who were beginning to feel afraid 
that the sea would not agree with them. The 
fourth mate and the boat-steerers were with us, 
and once in a while they would try to make us 
laugh. Possibly I smiled once or twice, but 
if I did, I have no recollection of it; and it was 
so dark that a smile could not have been seen 
very far. When we had been there about 
three hours, something touched me — out- 
wardly, I mean. I put out my hands to feel 
what it was, and it seemed like a bread-bas- 
ket; as I had suspected, from the squeak, it 
might be. 

" Take some," said a low voice, which was 
Tom's; " it's all right." 

There was something soft in the basket, and 
I took three of them. They were cold biscuit, 
as we would call them on shore, but at sea 
they were " soft tack." The basket went 
round, and every man took some. 

Tom was rather short and dumpy for an 
angel, but I sometimes thought he was almost 
good enough to be one. It's possible he is by 
this time. 

While I was eating, a soft voice near me 
said, " It goes to the right spot." 

I understood just what it meant, for mine 
went to the right spot too. It was the first 
food that really tasted good to me after I got 
to sea. It came by accident, — or, I am not 
sure but I might say, providentially. The 
steward had been baking soft tack the evening 
before — an extra lot of it — for the cabin ta- 
ble. His well-filled basket had been left near 
the window in his pantry. The pantry was on 
•the same side of the house against which we 
were standing, and the window — a sliding 
one — had not been made fast. In rubbing 



ISO 



GETTING ON SEA-LEGS. 



against it, Tom made the discovery. Very 
naturally he shoved the window clear back, 
and began to explore. Very fortunately the 
bread-basket was so near he could not miss of 
it, and the result was as I have stated. 

After that I began to pick up gradually. 
The soft tack gave my appetite a start, as it 
were, and before we arrived at the Western 
Islands I could eat bean soup and duif with 
any of them. My appetite for salt junk was 
longer in coming; but finally I could master 
anything the cook had to offer. There is no 
telling what a man can eat till he goes to sea. 
To be sure I used to long for a little milk and 
sugar to put in my tea and coffee, but I even 
got over that before I had been at sea four 
years. 

Then, too, there was a lack of knives, and 
forks, and earthen ware. All the crockery I 
had — and it was as much as any one had in 
the forecastle — was a tin pot that held a 
quart, an iron spoon, and a little tin pannikin 
for a plate. I took care of all these things 
myself, washing them occasionally when 
water was plenty, and cleaning them with 
oakum when it was not. I used to pick up 
all the fag-ends of ropes for dish-cloths. It 
was plain enough that some of the old sailors 
pitied me for being so nice. They did not 
think it necessary to wash dishes more than 
once a week, and some got along very well 
without washing them at all. 

I got sympathy of various kinds. The 
second mate, Mr. Bowlegs, used to speak 
kindly to me, when there was nobody else 
about, and sometimes when I was at the wheel 
the captain seemed to feel an interest in me. 
I suppose it was seldom they got such a ten- 
der sprig at sea. None of them seemed to 
swear at me quite so hard as they did at the 
others. Even the cook had pity for me. 

I'll tell you how it was about the cook (" the 
doctor" we always used to call him) — the 
black, shiny fellow ! He first showed his 
good-will towards me by calling me slyly be- 
hind the galley, one evening at supper time, 
before I had come to my appetite, and thrust- 
ing into my hands some warm soft tack, — a 
part of his perquisite from the cabin table, — 
" Put them under your shirt and keep dark," 
said he, in his husky voice ; and I knew very 
well what he meant. He wanted my wash- 
ing ; that was all. 

I was very willing that the doctor should 
do my washing, all but the dishes, and after 
that I had as clean clothes as any one. In 
return I gave the doctor all the tobacco I had, 
and some other things that I thought I would 



have no use for. Of course I did not go to 
sea without a supply of tobacco, expecting to 
learn how to use it. I did make a few feeble 
attempts in that direction before we weighed 
anchor, but after we got to sea I was so dis- 
appointed that I gave up my experiments, and 
have never had a desire to resume them since. 
I am getting along in years now, and I don't 
think I should have enjoyed any better health 
even if I had used tobacco. 

One evening the doctor gave me a flying- 
fish for breakfast. Think of that! 

The old lady whose sailor son told her about 
flying fish, didn't believe in such things, be- 
cause it didn't tell about them in the Bible. 
But when he spoke about heaving up Pharaoh's 
chariot wheels out of the Red Sea, it was all 
right; because, according to the Bible, Pha- 
raoh and his host were overwhelmed in that 
sea ; and no doubt she was glad enough of 
it, not thinking what a weeping and wailing 
there must have been among the poor women 
and children at home. 

But the doctor actually gave me a fiying-fish 
for breakfast; fried, I think. At any rate, it 
was fried or broiled. It was a breezy morn- 
ing, and the fish flew on board our ship. Poor 
fellow ! he didn't know what he was coming 
to. We had just begun to wash off decks, — 
something I won't say anything about at pres- 
ent, — and there were flying-fish all around 
the ship, darting from sea to sea ; that is, 
from the crest of one wave into another; 
sometimes going several ship's lengths clear 
of the water. It happened that the fiight of 
this one was arrested by the inclined deck of 
our ship, and thus I got him. I gave it to the 
doctor to cook for me, and he could hardly do 
less than give it back, especially as he was my 
washer-man. And so it happened that the 
doctor gave me a flying-fish for breakfast. 

And yet I was not happy. The sea had dis- 
appointed me. The ship, too. The customs, 
and the style of living that prevailed on 
board, were not in accordance with my tastes. 
I had been differently educated. I had a gen- 
eral tendency to feel sorry, and very early in 
the voyage I had made up my mind not to be 
a sailor. I remembered the old farm, — the 
best place in all the world, — and resolved to 
improve the first opportunity that should 
offer to return to it. I even spoke to the cap- 
tain about it. He seemed pleased at my at- 
tachment to the old place, but thought I 
could do much better to stay with him. I 
told him, " I had no idea he was going to make 
so long a voyage. The shipping-master had 
told me it would only be an eighteen months' 



GETTING ON SEA LEGS, 



151 



voyage ; which I had thought would be as 
long as I should care to be at sea the first 
time." 

The captain tried to make it easy for me. 
" If we should have good luck," he said, " we 
would not be gone more than three years, 
and by that time I ought to be able to steer a 
boat." He promised to teach me navigation, 
too, and told me to come into the cabin that 
very day, after dinner, and show him how I 
could "figger." I got the impression that 
there was a book in the cabin with a great many 
figures in it ; but I got little encouragement 
of reaching home till the end of the voyage. 
I gained something, however; for after that I 
spent an hour in the cabin almost every day, 
for a time, making figures. I had never seen 
so many figures before as I found in the cap- 
tain's " Epitome." 

I will just say here that the name of my 
ship was North Light; the " Old North," we 
used to call her. The captain's name was 
Lancer, — Captain Lancer, — generally known 



1 among the crew as the " Old Man." We 
seldom called him anything else. We were 
bound to the North-west Coast, by the way 
of the Cape of Good Hope and the Indian 
Ocean. And I will only remark further, in 
this connection, that the voyage lasted just 
four years. The ship arrived home in the 
same month of the year in which she had 
sailed away. 

After my interview with the captain, con- 
cerning home and the way to get there, I came 
to the determination that I would be free. I 
began to think of it as soon as I left the cap- 
tain to go forward, and by the time I reached 
the forecastle, had resolved to be free. " Give 
me liberty or give me death," said Patrick 
Henry, " and give me freedom," thought I. 

I knew that I could never be free at sea, but 
we were to touch at Fayal, — it was all the talk 
till we got there, — and I supposed that then 
we would all go ashore, for a few hours at 
least. Then I would sti'ike for freedom and 
my native land. 




152 



GETTING ON SEA LEGS. 



GETTING- ON SEA-LEGS. 



BY AN OLD SALT. 



PART rL 

I LOOKED eagerly forward for the Western 
Islands. It was a hazj, soft summer day 
when we first saw Flores, like a great bank of 
smoke, away to the eastward. Almost at the 
moment we first saw it, the ship lurched so 
heavily, that our allowance of bean-soup, just 
passed out of the galley for dinner, was cap- 
sized upon deck, and went in diagonal lines 
towards the scuppers. Shanks, who was at 
the wheel, was accused of capsizing the soup 
on purpose ; but probably it was all owing to 
his trying to see the land. I am sure he re- 
gretted the loss as much as any of us, for he 
was affectionately fond of beans. The second 
morning after that we were in sight of Fayal. 

It was the Fourth of July, — the day of all 
others when thoughts of freedom come, — and 
I was still firm in my resolve. We had ar- 
rived off the entrance to the harbor in the 
night, and at sunrise the white walls of 
the town were in sight, the ship running in 
towards them. I put on some extra clothes 
that morning, although the weather was warm, 
and watched the shores, and the town we were 
approaching, with much interest. 

The island looked inviting, its attractions 
increasing as we sailed farther into the bay, 
past a yellow-walled convent, or church, on 
the left. It was really a foreign land ; but I 
felt very willing to stop there, till I could get 
a chance to go home. To be sure, there might 
be a difficulty in interchanging ideas with the 
inhabitants ; but probably that could be over- 
come. 

Back of the town, whose low white walls 
stretched around the head of the bay, were 
beautiful green sloping fields stretching away 
up the hills, surrounded by hedge-rows, as it 
seemed at that distance. Some of these fields 
were under cultivation, apparently, donkeys 
and men being seen moving about in them. 
The rising sun shone brightly over all, scarce 
a cloud being in the sky. 

We ran in till we were within a mile of the 
town ; and then the ship was hove to. I was 
not the only green hand who expected to go 
ashore. Most of us were ready for an excur- 
sion, and the old hands probably thought it 
would be well enough to let us believe that we 
would have an opportunity to enjoy one. But 
again I was disappointed. When the main 
yards were aback, the captain told Mr. Shooks, 
the fourth mate, to lower his boat — the star- 



board quarter-boat. It was manned by a picked 
crew, of whom Mr. Shooks was one, Tom 
another, and the balance all regular old salts 
who wouldn't run if they could. Then the 
captain got in, and they pulled away. Then 
I saw Captain Lancer's game, and my confi- 
dence in him was greatly shaken. I never 
had so good an opinion of Captain Lancer 
after that. 

As soon as the boat was gone, Mr. Plump 
— that was the mate — ordered us to brace 
forward ; and we were soon standing right 
away from the town, out to sea again. I can 
hardly tell how I felt, when I found that 
nobody else was going ashore. I had been 
so sure, all along, that I should stop at Fayal, 
that I was for the time a little sore in spirit. 
I wondered how any captain could have the 
heart to treat honest and confiding men in 
that way. It occurred to me, at last, that he 
must have been a green hand himself some 
time. 

But there was no help for it ; and finding my 
clothes rather warm, I went down and took 
off part of them. Vain hope ! Fatal delusion ! 
When should I ever see my home ? I thought 
hard of my captain all day, and for some time 
after. He looked like a guilty thing when he 
came on board at night, and retired so quickly 
to his cabin that I was sure he was conscious 
of having done wrong. 

We stood out, past the yellow building that 
was on our right now, till we were half way 
over towards Pico. The highest land I had 
ever seen was right before me, but it did not 
interest me much. The Peak of Pico rose 
almost eight thousand feet directly from the 
sea ; but it would have been all the same to 
me if it had been only five thousand feet. 
The water was covered with " Portuguese men- 
of-war," all around us ; yet they did not look 
very formidable. They were said to be capa- 
ble of inflicting pain, however, and we were 
advised not to go overboard among them. 
The advice was well thought of, for there was 
one, at least, who was meditating something 
of that kind, should night come early enough. 

Those "men-of-war" carried no guns. Thev 
were merely little floating nautilse, provided 
with membraneous appendages, of a pinkish 
hue, which they raised above them and used 
as sails. They were delicate-looking little 
things, and very numerous. Their touch upon 
one's flesh, when in the water, produces a 
stinging sensation, and therefore, as the water 
was literally covered with them, a swim towards 
the shore would have been very painful, to say 
the least. Having learned these things, I lost 
all hope of reaching the shore in any way. 



GETTING ON SEA-LEGS. 



'53 



At last we wore ship, and stood back towards 
Fajal. It was nearly noon by the time we got 
well in towards the town again, and not near 
so cool and pleasant as it had been in the 
morning. By this time our captain had made 
purchases on shore, and we met a large shallop 
coming off with supplies. It was accompanied 
by several smaller boats, containing articles 
to be yet disposed of on private account. We 
hove to, and the boats all came alongside. 
Then those who were in them spoke Portu- 
guese ; and it was wonderful how much they 
could talk in a short time. They had on 
quaint steeple-crowned hats, and looked odd 
in their dress generally. 

The supplies consisted of hogs, — covered 
skeletons, as Short remarked, while he helped 
one on board, — fowls, potatoes, onions, and 
four bushels of apricots. The apricots 
looked nice ; but they were for cabin use. 
The most I could do was to wish I lived 
in the cabin. The hogs — they were 
funny fellows. They consisted mostly 
of nose and tail. Between those points 
they had not much to brag of. They 
had no end of tail — that we could dis- 
cover. They wore them in ringlets — a 
fashion that used to prevail to some 
extent among our own hogs. 

There was nothing peculiar about the 
fowls, or the onions and potatoes ; but 
in the small boats were some fruits, 
such as were in season, that we could 
have by paying for. There were also 
cheeses, pressed in little flat, round cakes, 
that would weigh about a pound each. 
The old hands seemed to know all about — 
them, and called them jackass cheeses. 
I bought a few of them, and some fruit, with 
a reckless disregard of cost ; and retiring to 
a corner, refreshed myself, and found some 
comfort still. 

It was impossible to keep my eyes off those 
swine while I was eating. There were about 
fifty of them, and it seemed strange that the 
captain should take so many such things to 
sea with him. I wondered if any of them 
would go into the cabin. One of them came 
up and smelt of me with the end of his nose, 
and I gave him some cheese. They seemed 
inclined to be friendly, all of them. As we 
were to be shipmates, it would be well to be 
on good terms with them. It occurred to me, 
as I watched them, that they were of the same 
breed that ran down the mountain into the 
sea. 

The boatmen staid by till they could sell us 
nothing more, and then they cast off and ran 
back towards the town, while we stood out to 



sea again. Returning, and running well in 
late in the afternoon, we met the captain, who 
had in his boat three Portuguese youth, whom 
he was going to make seamen of. It was evi- 
dent that the poor fellows had on their best 
clothes, and I pitied them. If I could have 
talked in Portuguese, I am not sure but I 
should have told them how it was ; but not 
one in the ship could speak to them in that 
language, nor could they speak to us in ours. 
As I have before remarked, the captain retired 
quietly to his cabin soon after his return. Then 
Mr. Plump once more headed the ship out to 
sea again. 

The breeze left us soon after sunset, and as 
it was near the full of the moon, we had a 
lovely night — drifting upon the shimmering 
sea between the shores of the two islands. 




Having given up all hope of reaching either 
shore, my mind was becoming resigned, — to 
wait for the next chance, — and I was in a 
measure prepared to enjoy the beauties of the 
scene. I will not attempt to describe them, 
as such beauties can hardly be appreciated 
unless they are seen. 

The next morning there was a breeze, and 
when I turned out at breakfast time, having 
had the morning watch in, we were running 
to southward in the very shadow of the Peak 
of Pica. It soon became known that we were 
to touch next at the Cape de Verdes, for a 
supply of goats ; to be companions for the 
pigs, perhaps. (I am sorry to say the pigs 
were all sick as soon as we got them fairly to 
sea; and not only the pigs, but the fowls, and 
the three Portuguese youths. Poor things! 
they all seemed disappointed.) 

For two or three days I did not visit the 
cabin ; but finally the captain ventured to 



154 



GETTING ON SEA LEGS 



speak to me again, when it was my trick at 
the wheel ; and as I answered him kindly, he 
invited me to resume my studies. After all, I 
could not very well lay up anything against 
him; he had the advantage of me, and, of 
course, a right to use it. It was possible, I 
thought, that I might do the same if I were 
captain. So I forgave him as much as I could, 
although I resolved that I would get on shore, 
if possible, at the Cape de Verdes. I resumed 
my studies, spending about an hour each day 
in the cabin, as before; and again the captain 
and I were on veiy good terms. 

And now I will speak of the steward, with 
whom I came in daily contact. He was very 
black; blacker than the doctor, if possible, but 
not so shiny. His was a more gloomy, som- 
bre hue, like the darkness we see — when we 
can't see anything. That was the color of the 
steward. He had a very large and very angu- 
lar frame. He had but one eye, and that looked 
always across his nose, as if hunting after the 
other eye that used to be there. I never saw 
a man with only one eye who squinted so 
extremely before. On his head he always 
wore a bright, stiff bandanna handkerchief, in 
the form of a turban, so drawn down as to 
cover his blind eye. I never saw, before or 
since, on any other man, such a solemn, 
mournful visage, as that steward had. His 
English, when speaking, was much broken. 
It was said he was a native African, and I 
have no doubt he was. He had a deep scar 
upon one cheek, that looked as if it had been 
made by a hot gridiron. In short, his general 
appearance was such as to suggest that he had 
been severely kicked by Fate. 

This stewai-d was the cabin housekeeper. 
He was neat, and very efficient in his place. 
He had the dispensing of all the luxuries that 
went forwai-d for the men, and therefore he 
was respected. Soon after leaving the Azores, 
he spoke to me one day, when I Avas pursuing 
my studies alone. He wanted to learn to read, 
he said, and he'd got a spelling-book in his 
chest; wouldn't I learn him.? I promised to 
assist him, and. agreed to meet him that night, 
during the dog-watch, in his siaie-room — a 
little cuddy-hole with a berth in it just forward 
of his pantry. 

I kept my engagement, and found the stew- 
ard ready with his spelling-book. It was a 
new book, — not a leaf soiled, — and the old 
fellow felt proud of it. We looked it through, 
and turned back to the alphabet, and I tried to 
learn him A. 

" Now, steward," said I, "that's A ; the letter 
we all begin with." , 

"I wanter know," said he; " less twig him 



agin. Don't look suff he'd be very hard to 
lun." 

Then we tried B ; and the steward seemed to 
think he'd be a hard one. Finally he got an 
idea. 

"It looks like de darbies deys put on us 
when we kick up dat rumpus in Callao. Ise 
got him now, shuah." 

Then came C. 

"I doesn't quite unstan wat dey calls him 
see for," said the steward. 

My pupil had me there. For the life of me 
I couldn't tell why they called him see, and the 
best thing I could do was to go on to D. 

When we had got through with about half 
of them, the steward wanted to go back and 
review. So we went back. He had forgotten 
about A, but remembering the darbies, he was 
just going to say B — but couldn't think of it. 
And it was so with all the others. Finally, 
after several vain attempts to remember the 
names of the different letters, he closed the 
book in disgust. 

"If dafs what you calls readin'," says he, 
" dis chile kin get along well 'nuff widout it. 
I don't wants no more book lurnin' for me." 

I felt a bit relieved at this decision, and made 
no effort to persuade him to another effort. 
Nothing else occurred worthy of mention till 
we sighted Fogo, one of the Cape de Verde 
Islands. 

Fogo was not the island the captain wished 
to touch at, and it was not till two days after 
that we were off Brava, when it was proposed 
to land. I learned from Tom, who had it from 
the fourth mate, who of course got it from 
the captain, that izvo boats were to land, and 
that the regular crew belonging to each boat 
would go with it. Of course, one of the boats 
was the fourth mate's ; and the other was not 
mine ; for I belonged to the bow-boat, which 
was Mr. Sharp's, or the third mate's. I did 
not stop to consider what sort of a place 
Brava was, or anything about it, but having 
advantage of this information, I determined 
to make a desperate venture. Tom knew very 
well that I was anxious to go ashore, though 
he may not have understood the reason why. 
I asked him if I might take the place of his 
after-oarsman, if I could arrange it with that 
man. He said it would be all the same to him, 
he didn't care who went, though it was possi- 
ble that Mr. Shooks or the captain might 
object. I did not apply for leave to Mr. 
Shooks or the captain, but went forward for 
my man. 

It was Shanks who pulled the after-oar in 
Tom's boat, and to him I went, though with 
no appearance of haste. " Shanks," says I, 



GETTING ON SEA-LEGS. 



^55 



" what will you take for your chance of going 
ashore ? " 

" I dunno," says he ; " what'll ye give ? " 

"That wasn't what I asked you ; what •\. ill 
you take ? " 

" Ye ain't such a darned fool as to think 
we'll get a chance to go ashore — are ye ? " 

" I don't know," says I ; " it's possible some 
of us will have a chance." 

" Wal, I'll sell mine cheap. What'll ye 
give for it, naow .'' " 

" I'll give you one of my red shirts, 
Shanks." 

" It's a bargain ! " and Shanks clasped my 
hand. " Bring on yer shirt." 

The shirt was transferred to Shanks's chest 
before plenty of witnesses, and I was sure of 
his chance of going ashore, — provided the 
captain should not object. The price was cheap, 
I thought, considering that the climate was so 
warm there. I had three good woollen shirts 
left, which would certainly be as many as I 
would need should I stop at Brava. 

The aforesaid bargain was completed the 
evening we arrived oif the island. We were 
to lie oif and on through the night, and land 
the next morning. When the morning came, 
I dressed myself, before it was very light, 
much as I had done at Fayal. That is, I put 
on two shirts and an extra pair of trousers. 
(Sailors never wear pants.) I was careful not 
to make much show with my clothes ; and 
when I was dressed, I put what money I had 
left — about two dollars, I think — no scrip 
among it — in my pocket, and went on deck 
to look at the land. 

" It's a hard looking old place," said Shanks, 
quite happy, evidently, that he had no chance 
of getting to it. 

And so it was ; but even such a place was 
better than none. It seemed only a great brown 
mountain rising out of the sea. We could 
see nothing green upon it, nor any sign that 
anybody lived there. I said to Shanks, — 

" It's possible the old man has made a mis- 
take." 

The breeze was light, and it was very warm, 
especially for two suits of clothes. By the 
time we were through breakfast it was almost 
calm ; the wind seemed dying out. We were 
still some three or four miles from the shore ; 
but we had been well exercised in the boats, 
and it would not be much of a pull to reach 
it. So, as soon as breakfast was over, the 
order was given to lower the two quarter-boats, 
and for their crews to man them. 

"Darn it!" said Shanks. "I say, Eph, 
you may have your shirt back: I don't 
want it." 



" Twas a fair bargain. Shanks." 

" I know it; but you may have the darned 
thing back — I don't want it." 
' But there were witnesses at hand who put 
Shanks to shame, and I went to take his place 
in the boat. 

"Where's Shanks.'"' inquired Mr. Shooks, 
as I went down the side. 

"He isn't going, sir; he ain't feeling well, 
and I'm going to pull his oar for him." 

"Out with it then, and give the stroke;" 
and elated by my success I went to work with 
such a will that I was soon blinded by the 
perspiration that trickled into my eyes. I sat 
face to face with the captain, who never made 
any remark whatever to me, though he talked 
all the time with Mr. Shooks, and the drift 
of his conversation was landward. He said 
Brava was a fearfully unhealthy place — every- 
body had the yellow fever there. It was as 
much as a man's life was worth to try to stay 
there more than a few hours at a time. I 
overheard and reflected upon what the cap- 
tain said, and the perspiration poured down 
me. It is possible that the captain suspected 
I had some thought of staying there, and had 
too much regard for my feelings to say to me, 
directly, that the place was unhealthy. 

It was very warm, as I will again remark. I 
don't know how it happened to be so warm 
that morning, unless it was because I had on 
so many clothes. And it was a long way to 
the little bay where we landed. It was a hot 
little bay, or cove, with steep, craggy cliff's all 
around it. The sun poured straight down 
into it, and it was warm. I could only look 
backward, while I was pulling, and could not 
see what we were coming to ; but I got the 
impression that it was quite a diff'erent place 
from Fayal. I could hear the surf dashing 
upon the rocky shores ahead, and right and 
left, and a sickening odor — sickening to rrfe 
— came from the land. It was^a smell of tropic 
sweets and roasted earth, as it were, all over- 
done. Presently there was a clattering of 
tongues, — Portuguese tongues, — a brayingof 
jackasses, a bleating of goats» a squealing of 
pigs, a crowing of cocks and cackling of hens, 
harmoniously mingled with the roar of the 
surf — and we landed. 

I could see no town, but I could hear all the 
noises, and see where they all came from. My 
first iinpressions- were unfavorable. I thought 
I would not like the island for a residence. 
There was but a very small area of level 
ground where we landed, the brown, barren 
cliff's rising almost perpendicularly all around 
it. Two or three huts could be seen near the 
entrance to a ravine, that probably led to a 



156 



GETTING ON SEA LEGS, 



better country beyond ; and perched upon 
shelves of the cliffs above, w^ere two or three 
more. That single narrow passage between 
the mountain walls seemed the only way by 
which people living beyond could reach or 
leave the shore. Should I attempt it.' I 
could not at once decide. 

There must have been a hundred natives 
there to meet us. Probably there were many 
more, — and they had brought down a little 
of everything that the island produced to sell 
to us. They didn't know that I had only two 
dollars in my pocket. Everything was so 
strange, and so noisy, that I was almost be- 




wildered. There was no cessation of the 
noises I have mentioned ; everybody wanted 
to sell, and everything seemed to want to be 
sold. A goat with a very long beard looked 
at me, and pleaded pitifully ; but I hadn't the 
money to spare. A donkey with a sorrowful 
face looked at me as if he had found a friend 
at last; but I couldn't take him. Perhaps I 
might stay with him ; I could do no more. 

Thei-e was nothing to go away from the 
shore for — unless one had special business, 
like mine. There were rocks about, large 
enough to sit on, and I went a little to one 
side and sat upon one, and looked about and 



reflected. I had not been there long before a 
fine-looking young Portuguese came to me, 
and put a question. Says he, — 

"You know my broder, Joseef.'* You no 
come Salem .'' " 

I was almost sorry that I didn't know his 
brother, for I saw that he wanted to hear from 
him very bad; but — I couldn't tell a lie. So 
I had to tell him that I had never been to 
Salem ; and he seemed disappointed. 

"You 'Merican ! How dat, no go Salem?" 
I had to explain that every American did 
not go to Salem ; but I thought he seemed to 
distrust my sincerity. He was a fine-look- 
ing fellow, neatly dressed, — that 
_^ is, he had on a clean shirt, — and 

I -would have liked to have told him 
about his brother — the more be- 
cause I had a brother in America 
also, whom I wished to hear from 
very much. How he came to speak 
English so well I could not under- 
stand, — unless he had learned it 
expressly to inquire after his brother. 
Before I was aware of it — before 
I was done sitting on that rock, 
even — the captain was ready to go 
back ; he had bought all he wanted. 
Tom came to me and told me so, 
and of course I must wait till anoth- 
er time. It was very hard, but it 
was all fair. The captain had the 
advantage of me. 

We piled a lot of bananas, and 
fowls, and other things into the 
boats, and then, getting in our- 
selves, pulled back towards the ship. 
We were followed by two or three 
boats that belonged to the island- 
ers, bringing the goats, of which 
the captain had bought a large 
number. The weather had not 
changed; still I did not feel quite 
so warm while going back. We 
reached the ship before noon, and 
by dinner time all the goats were aboard, and 
we were ready to go on our way again towards 
the Crozets, in the Indian Ocean, where we 
were to do our first whaling. 

I couldn't help thinking of my shirt, — or 
rather of Shanks's shirt, which I had given 
him, and Avhich it occurred to me that I might 
as well have kept. Shanks, evidently, was as 
much dissatisfied as I was ; but it was too late 
to trade back then. He did not know for 
some time that he had the best of the bargain. 
We stood to southward again ; and before 
night Brava was almost out of sight. I had 
fairly got my sea-legs on. 



WHALING ON THE CROZETS. 



'57 



WHALING ON THE OKOZETS. 



BY AN OLB SALT. 



I ALWAYS enjoy music. A hand-organ 
does not disturb me. Indeed, I cannot 
quite understand why so many people, who 
seem reasonable in other things, should object 
to hand-organs being played in the streets, 
since it is so delicious to have music in the 
air. The influence of music — who can tell? 
It rouses to action, or it soothes the troubled 
soul ; and it lifts us all heavenward. 

Therefore I am in favor of organists, every- 
where, and of every kind, because there is 
everybody to hear, and some don't know one 
kind from another. If I were to except any, 
it would be the old lady who served under the 
first Napoleon, whose notes are so faint and 
squeaky. She is generally on the Common, 
or thereabout. One would think that she 
must have played at Moscow, and that her in- 
strument took a cold on that occasion from 
which it never recovered, so faint and squeaky 
are its notes. It seems almost a pity that she 
did not leave it behind her there. 

But I would not exclude even this old relict ; 
for, though so wrinkled and weather-beaten, 
and turning out such unlovely sounds, she is 
a sister of mine, and I pity her. She was 
young once, and may have been handsome. 
She had a father to love her — as she has still. 
Her Father is my Father. If pity is love, I 
love her too. We should all love one another, 
you know. I love her, and would let her 
play, though her music be ever so shaky and 
squeaky. Let her play ! 

But I was going to remark that our black- 
smith — we called him " Smut " — was one of 
the "darnedest fiddlers," as Shanks expressed 
it, that I ever knew. He was born a-fiddling, 
he said, and it came so natural to him that he 
couldn't help it, — he had to fiddle. He used 
to tell us that he had done nothing but kill 
cats for a month, before beginning the voyage, 
so that he would be sure to have strings 
enough for his fiddle. The old Toms made 
the best bass strings, but he preferred the 
little kittens for the upper notes. 

Every night, in pleasant weather. Smut 
would bring up his fiddle, and " make it talk." 
Then things would be lively. The waist of 
the ship was the ball-room, and everyone who 
could dance a jig, hornpipe, or breakdown, 
performed; while Smut sat on the carpenter's 
bench, and fiddled and cracked his jokes. I 
used to think sometimes he would fiddle too 



much. But no ill effects ever came from his 
music, and I am quite sure now that a fiddle 
is a good thing to have at sea. 

And so, getting a little good at times, we 
jogged along towards the Crozets. To the 
southward of the Cape of Good Hope we had 
a good deal of heavy weather, and there was 
a wintry feeling about it that made heavy 
monkey-jackets desirable. Indeed, the weather 
was of that character all the way from the 
Cape to the Crozets ; and so it continued even 
after we had arrived there. 

We found whales ; hardly a day passed with- 
out our seeing them ; but they were shy, wide 
awake, and hard to come at; and the frequent 
recurrences of heavy weather made the matter 
worse. There were times when a whale might 
have blown without fear of harm under our 
very cabin windows. On these accounts we 
were not very successful. 

We cruised for several weeks, but took only 
four whales, I think, that we succeeded in cut- 
ting in. Two were lost by its coming on to 
blow, after we had got them alongside, so 
heavily that we were obliged to let them go. 
And one of those that we succeeded in cutting 
in was first let go in the same way, but recov- 
ered after the weather had moderated, and 
after it had been adrift so long that it smelled 
— bad. It had become filled with gas, — not 
the kind that Professor Donaldson uses, — 
judging by the smell, though that smells bad 
enough, — which distended it enormously, and 
shaped it somewhat like a balloon. We cut 
that whale in, after a while, but I have never 
loved whales since. 

Hardly a day passed in which we did not 
chase whales, unless it was i-eally blowing a 
gale. We pulled and pulled, sometimes all 
day, without getting fast, — Sundays as Avell 
as other days. If a captain stops whaling be- 
cause it is Sunday, it is an exceptional case. 
It did not happen in the North-Light. I sup- 
pose it is considered always a work of neces- 
sity to take whales. 

Sometimes we would get fast to a whale that 
would run us almost out of sight of the ship. 
More than once we had to cut and let our 
whale go, after the ship was so low down that 
we could see nothing of it but its topsails ; 
and once, I remember, we did not get back on 
board till long after dark. The result of so 
much pulling was to make us good oarsmen, 
if nothing more. 

Stoven boats were not rare. Indeed, Smut, 
who did carpenter's duty as well as his own, 
had more than he could do to keep the boats 
in repair. It was fortunate that we had so 



158 



WHALING ON THE CROZETS. 



many spare boats, for sometimes two or three 
were waiting repairs at once. I will endeavor 
to give an idea how one accident of this kind 
happened. 

One day, two or three whales were "raised" 
at the same time, all near together. They 
were at least two miles away to windward, and 
the weather was a little rough ; but we low- 
ered all the same in a great hurry, and pulled 
for them. It would have done a fresh-water 
man good to have been with us that day ; he 
would have got well pickled, at least. 

The bow-boat, to which I belonged, almost 
always took the lead in a chase ; for Mr. Sharp 
was the most energetic of all the mates, and 
Scamp, his boat-steerer, was in that respect 
very much like him. They were both small 
men, very compactly done up, and filled with 
" pluck." One being in the bow and the other 
in the stern, it was as if an electric current ex- 
tended from one to the other right through us 
who were between them, enabling us to out- 
pull all the other boats' crews. 

This time we reached the nearest whale 
ahead of all the other boats, and our bows 
actually touched his side ; and Scamp shoved 
his iron deep into him before he was aware of 
our approach. He breached upward, and rolled 
as he sank back, the point of the fin that was 
on our side falling upon the boat's gunwale, 
crushing it down, but not quite upsetting us ; 
and then, with a tremendous pat upon the 
water with his flukes, he went down. 

If so much lead had fallen straight down a 
quarter of a mile, with our line attached, the 
rope could hardly have gone out faster. It 
disappeai'ed from the tub with magical swift- 
ness, almost setting the loggerhead round 
which it spun in a blaze, and seemed but a 
flashing line of light leaping through the boat 
and out at the lead-lined chocks in the bows. 
A very short time would have taken it all out ; 
but before it was quite gone the whale stopped, 
the line slackened, and we began to haul in. 

' ' Now is our time !" said Mr. Sharp. ' ' Round 
It in ; he's ours, sure ! " 

It is not so light woi'k as some might think 
to haul a long whale-line straight up out of 
the sea ; but we got it in as fast as we could, 
while Mr. Sharp changed places with Scamp, 
so as to be ready to lance the whale. The 
whale must have risen almost as swiftly as he 
had gone down, for sooner than we expected 
we heard the " whi-s-h " of his spout, and saw 
his back above water. He was some distance 
off", however, and immediately he started to 
run. 

" Haul in, men ! haul in ! " and we did our 



best to get in what Ime we could before the 
whale should have straightened out the slack, 
never noticing that the second mate's boat was 
fast to another whale that was running square 
across our bows. In a moment, however, the 
other whale crossed our course, and we heard 
a warning cry just as our line tautened. But 
it was too late ; we had barely time to see 
what the matter was, when the waist boat 
dashed into ours near the bows, and crashed 
right through it. 

There we were in the puddle, our boat float- 
ing around us. All we had to do was to keep 
our heads out till the first mate came and 
picked us up ; for Mr. Bowlegs did not cut 
from his whale — not at all : he knew we could 
take care of ourselves. 

I will only add that our whale went off with 
the line, and the few things attached to it, and 
hasn't been seen since, to my knowledge. 
Bowlegs went to windward as usual, returning 
on board a little before dark, with the same 
old story to tell. 

And this was the kind of whaling we had 
on the Crozets ; and it naturally made the 
captain a little cross at times, and it seemed 
as if a little of his sourness was imparted to 
his officers and to the crew. We had many a 
rough pull when it was of no sort of use to 
chase whales, for if we had got fast to one we 
could have done nothing with it. We would 
come on board after a long chase, when it was 
breezing up, and think we had got all done 
for that day; but it would not be long till 
" T-h-e-r-e she b-1-o-w-s !" would come from 
the lookout at the masthead, and down the 
boats would go again, just because the captain 
was " out of sorts." 

It was a difficult matter to lower a boat and 
get into it right side up, always. If we tried 
to get in when it was coming up towards us, 
it was liable to go the other way before we 
could reach it, and perhaps we would fall 
about ten feet farther than we expected to. At 
least it used to serve me so ; and I never could 
see any sense in lowering at such times,, 
though I never said a word about it to the 
captain. 

One day, when it Avas blowing unusually 
fresh, we had returned from a long chase, with 
nothing, as usual. The captain remarked to 
Mr. Bowlegs, while the boats were being 
hoisted up, that he didn't suppose one of the 
mates cared a fig whether they got fast to 
the whale or not. He said it in a friendly sort 
of way, but Mr. Bowlegs felt it, and made re- 
ply that he had certainly no reason to think so. 

"You needn't talk back to me," said the 




MOONLIGHT ON THE WAVE, 






rs^ 



WHALING ON THE CROZETS, 



l6l 



captain, sharply; "all you have got to do is 
just to fasten to the next whale you lower for, 
or, by thunder, I'll put one of the green hands 
in your place ! " 

Mr. Bowlegs understood the folly of trying 
to carry on an argument with the captain, and 
the matter dropped. It was about four o'clock 
in the afternoon. The sky was covered with 
squally-looking clouds, the white caps of the 
seas were flashing all around us. It looked as 
though we should have a rough night. No one 
thought that we should lower again that day. 
Mr. Bowlegs had a troublesome beard ; it re- 
quired shaving often, and he never underwent 
that operation without shedding tears. To 
console himself, it may have been, after the 
captain's rebuff, he went down to his little 
state-room to have a shave. Mr. Bowlegs had 
progressed to that point where those who have 
tears to shed begin to shed them, and a little 
farther. In fact, he had scraped one side of 
his face, round to a line perpendicular with 
his nose, the other side being covered with as 
thick a coat of lather as he had been able to 
put on. At that point his razor. stopped, and 
he listened. 

It was that same familiar cry, — he could not 
mistake it, — "The-r-e b-1-o-w-s ! The-r-e 
b-1-o-w-s ! " He could not mistake it, even 
though he was down below in his state-room, 
with his face half covered with lather. What 
should he do ? Before he could decide, there 
was another cry at the door of the house that 
covered the companion-way, and he recog- 
nized the captain's voice. " Stand by the 
boats ! " it said ; and, no longer mindful of the 
lather, Mr. Bowlegs dropped his razor, and 
responded to that call. 

I well remember how he looked as he rushed 
out of the cabin and into his boat, which was 
already going down the side, his face just half 
covered with lather. We were all pleased, 
especially when the captain called after him, 
gleefully, "Go it, Bowlegs; you'll catch 'em 
this time ! " 

It was rather hard on Mr. Bowlegs, who was 
a good friend to me, but I had to laugh. The 
captain ordered the boats down only to plague 
Mr. Bowlegs, probably, for it was " no weather 
for fishing," and he called us back before we 
were out of hail. 

But chasing whales is not the worst part of 
whaling, to a delicate organization. There is 
work to do after a whale is alongside — dirty 
work, in which oleaginous matter accumulates 
all over you, and over all the ship. There is 
work, and smoke, and gurry, till the whale is 
tried out. We have plenty of oil in our hair, 



and plenty in our clothes. We take a little 
inside, also, in the way of scraps, fried steaks 
of whale's flesh, and, should the captain be 
generous, fried doughnuts, — just to preserve 
the equilibrium, as it were. It's wonderful 
how much oil a whaleman can absorb. 

There is an unsatisfying odor, too, that per- 
vades the ship while the boiling is going on. 
It is not like the sweet smell of spices, or the 
rich perfume of tropic lands — not at all. It 
is a smell of burning scraps and boiling oil, 
and the yet uncooked blubber, so mingled, 
and so impressing itself upon you, that you 
never forget it. You cannot escape it ; though 
you go up into the top, or descend into the 
hold, or enter the sacred precincts of the cabin, 
— if you have any business there, — you are 
still in the midst of it. And yet it can hardly 
reach to the tip end of the flying jib-boom, 
when the ship is on the wind, and it is blowing 
fresh ; but there is hardly room for a whole 
ship's crew to sit there at once. Although it 
is not a pleasant smell, the mates all seem to 
like it, and the captain srniles sweetest when 
it is thickest. And all good whalemen endure 
it calmly, because it gives assurance that their 
ship is filling up. 

Much might be said of whales, but it has 
nearly all been said* before. The whale has 
points that cannot fail to interest any one who 
gets very near to him ; and the most striking 
of these, I may say, is the tail, otherwise called 
." flukes." He has a dangerous habit of lifting 
it when he becomes aware that an enemy is 
near; and there is no dodging it when it 
moves : a dark flash, and it is all over. It is a 
great deal heavier than it looks to be. You 
might as well be in the way of a cannon-ball. 

I found the tail always interesting when we 
were fast to a whale ; but after we had killed 
him and were cutting him in, my attention 
was generally turned to the head. A right- 
whale's head is so different from all other 
heads, that one wonders at it. In forming it, 
the Almighty seems to have designed that this 
greatest of all animate things should subsist 
on a kind of food peculiar to itself. Whalemen 
call it " squid." Probably professors call it by 
some other name ; but whalemen care little 
about that. 

" Squid" is a soft, jelly-like substance found 
floating in large fields in those parts of the 
ocean the whale most frequents. To under- 
stand how he feeds upon it, we must know 
about his head ; and I will first say that it is 
very large in proportion to his body. This 
might lead one to infer that the whale has a 
large stomach also, which is not the case. In- 



l63 



WHALING ON THE CROZETS, 



deed it is afBrmed that a right-whale can swal- 
low nothing larger than a herring ; which, if 
true, would prove conclusively that it could 
not have been a right-whale that swallowed 
Jonah. 

Instead of teeth, the right-whale has set in 
the upper part of its mouth, upon each side 
of a strong bony keel, as it were, slabs of bone 
— the common black whalebone of commerce. 
According to a description I have lately seen, 
" these slabs are from eighteen inches to ten 
feet in length, shaped somewhat like a blade 
tapering to a point along the entire length, on 
one side being quite thick, nearly two inches, 
and on the other coming almost to an edge, 
which is fringed with filaments resembling 
very coarse hairs. The slabs are attached to 
the palate by their bases, hang down into the 
mouth, and, from being placed transversely, 
their edges are parallel and at a very small dis- 
tance from each other, the base of each, as 
well as the outer edge, being composed of 
solid whalebone, while the inner edge termi- 
nates in a filament of the fibres mentioned, 
which fills up the whole interior of the mouth 
like a curtain set across it." 

This description looks a little misty at first ; 
but by reading it over several times, one can 
get the hang of it and. understand it pretty 
well. If the commas had held out, most likely 
it would have been made plainer. 

When the whale feeds, he simply opens his 
mouth, and rushes forward till it is well filled, 
when he closes it and ejects the water, the 
hairy filament that lines the mouth acting as . 
a strainer to retain all else within it, and then 
he swallows his food. Repeating the process, 
he goes on till he has completed his meal, or 
till something disturbs him, for he is not al- 
ways allowed to take his dinner in peace. 

I would like to give the measurement of 
some of our whales ; but, if I ever made any 
figures, I have lost them, and cannot do it 
now. Those we took on the Crozets were 
small, compared with those I saw on the 
North-West Coast. I think they averaged 
about one hundred barrels of oil each, and 
were perhaps sixty or seventy feet in length, 
with a breadth of beam of, say eight feet. On 
the North-West our whales must have aver- 
aged near two hundred barrels each. Once 
we captured two together that made us over 
five hundred barrels of oil. I suppose those 
were about as large, possibly the largest 
whales that were ever taken. There was hard- 
ly any perceptible difference in their size, and 
they must have been nearly one hundred feet 
in length. When secured alongside, they 



reached from the bow port of our ship clear 
past the stern. Monstrous gray old fellows 
they were. 

The whale has some interesting peculiarities. 
He always runs dead to windward to escape 
pursuing boats ; and it would seem as if he 
must be guided by something like reason in 
this, certainly, for it is the very best course he 
could possibly take. Owing to this, we got 
many a wet ride ; for to be drawn at the rate 
of twelve or fifteen miles an hour through 
combing seas, in a small boat, with a taut line 
keeping the bows well down, is not conducive 
to dry shirts. 

And when a whale dies, they say he turns 
his head to the sun. Whether this is merely 
a whaleman's notion or not, I cannot say. I 
was always thinking of something else about 
the time the whale died, and forgot to notice 
where the sun was : but one thing I can safely 
say : he makes things lively just before he 
goes. At last the lance has touched a vital 
part, and the huge victim spouts out the thick 
red life-blood, crimsoning the water all around, 
till it is almost gone. Then comes the "flur- 
ry." Sweeping round and round in a narrow- 
ing circle with fearful velocity, he lashes the 
blood-red water into foam with his flukes ; and 
woe to the boat that comes in his way. At 
last his struggles cease ; life is gone ; and the 
boats, that have been careful to keep at a safe 
distance, approach, and taking the inanimate 
mass that has made such fearful struggles in 
tow, proceed slowly towards the ship. To be 
stripped of his blubber and boiled down, is, 
after all, the pitiful end of one of God's 
greatest works. 




ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN. 



163 



ACEOSS THE INDIAN OCEAN. 



BY AN OLD SALT. 

ST. PAUL. A LITTLE UNPLEASANTNESS, AND 
A FEARFUL GALE. 

I WAS glad enough to leave the Crozets ; 
especially as I could have no chance of 
escape from the ship till we should have gone 
on much farther. Shortly after, it was re- 
ported that we were to touch at St. Paul — a 
lone bit of rock and earth in the very heart of 
the Indian Ocean. I hoped I should be able to 
get ashore, even there. With hardly a thought 
of how I should ever get away, I was deter- 
mined that if I could set foot on land I would 
remain there. 

Nothing happened worth mentioning till we 
reached St. Paul, unless it was a gam with a 
Frenchman ; and I am not sure that that is 
worth mentioning. I remember it distinctly, 
because of the little French doctor that came 
on board of our ship, with a little red cap on 
his head. He couldn't speak a word of Eng- 
lish, but he talked all the time, and I got well 
acquainted with him ; which I should not have 
done if I had lived forward. 

Ever since I had lived in the steerage, I had 
had free access to the cabin ; the captain really 
treating me very kindly, giving me, besides 
duties to perform, books to read, charts to 
study, and once in a while a cake to eat. The 
cakes were some that his wife had made, he 
said ; and they were very nice. He seemed to 
love to tell me about his wife and daughter, — 
she was about my age, he said, — and about 
his new house, that he had built for them — 
how nice it was, and how much it cost, and 
how he expected to live there with them him- 
self some time. Just think of such a man go- 
ing away, to be gone four years, where there 
were no railroads, steamboats, mail-routes, or 
anything of the kind ! He couldn't expect to 
hear from his wife and daughter very often. 
Just think of his telling me all about them, 
while I sat munching his cakes, determined in 
my heart to leave him secretly at the first op- 
portunity ! I must have been very ungrateful 
or very homesick. I would rather admit it 
was the last. 

But the little French doctor, — he talked at 
me, and seemed determined to open commu- 
nication in some way. At last he caught hold 
of me, and set me down upon a settee in the 
house, and almost before I knew what he was 
about, he had my mouth open, and was in- 
specting my teeth. He went to work on them, 
1 talking all the time, and all I could do was 



just to say, " Ugh," in reply. I don't think he 
helped them much. I had not been conscious 
of any sei-ious defect in them before, but 
shortly after I began to have trouble ; and it 
lasted till Mr. Plump took my head between 
his knees one day, on the booby-hatch, and 
with a hideous, old-fashioned thing, drew out 
one of the biggest teeth I had. Of course I 
shall always remember that little French 
doctor. 

A "gam" is a mutual sort of visit between 
two ships' crews. One or two boats' crews 
from each ship go on board the other, and 
spend an hour or two, or a whole afternoon. 
These visits are peculiar to whalemen, who 
often indulge in them while cruising and not 
otherwise engaged. This Frenchman was a 
whaler, like ourselves ; one of the few of that 
nationality that we met in the course of our 
voyage. * 

We made St. Paul on a cloudy, gloomy day. 
It was a desolate, dreary-looking place — what 
little there was of it. It was night before we 
got very near to it, and we ran off and on till 
morning. In the morning the clouds looked 
lighter, but the sky was still overcast, and the 
lone little isle looked dreary enough. And 
yet I would have gone ashore and remained 
there if I could ; for I saw a house on the 
island, which assured me that somebody lived 
there. 

But the captain had no idea of going ashore 
himself, even. It soon appeared that his only 
object in touching there was to catch some 
fish. St. Paul was noted among whalemen for 
the fine fish that abounded around its rocky 
shores, and our captain had probably fished 
there before. As soon as breakfast was 
over, two boats were lowered, — neither of 
them mine, — and, being manned by their 
crews, and the captain besides, were pulled in 
towards the dark cliff's till they were lost to 
sight beneath them. 

We kept the ship oft" and on, running in at 
times directly opposite to the one solitary 
house that stood at the foot of the cliff's, but 
saw no living soul upon the island, nor any 
other sign of one. The house was a great 
barn-looking structure, and I much doubt 
whether any one was in it at that time. Al- 
though it was such a solitary, forbidding place, 
I could not but feel disappointed, I was so 
longing to set foot again on firm land. 

Soon after noon the clouds began to draw 
closer around us, covering the sea with their 
misty skirts, and shutting us in with the 
desolate isle, as if it were their will that we 
should stay. The waters grcAV dark, though 
the curlin"- crests of the waves flashed more 



164 



ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN. 



brightly, and evei*y thing was gloomy and de- 
pressing. 

We ran in towards the boats and met them, 
loaded well down with the fish that had been 
caught. They were fine-looking fish ; but for 
all that, I felt gloomy and disappointed. I 
had waited long and come thousands of miles 
for that chance, and now I must go thousands 
of miles for another; and so much farther 
from home. The boats were hoisted to their 
places ; the ship kept on her course, steering 
away into the gloom south-eastward, and 
we spent the rest of the day in cleaning fish ! 
Thus sometimes end men's hopes — in the mist 
and darkness here below ; but we all know 
there is a clear sky above. 

In a few weeks after leaving St. Paul, I was 
as far from home as I can ever be in this world. 
We crossed almost our exact antipodes, our 
course carrying us to southward of Tasmania, 
■■ — VanDiemen's Land, as it was then called, — 
so as to strike the inost southern point of the 
New Zealand coast. 

While making those long runs from point 
to point of ovir Aveary voyage, the time passed 
very monotonously. The most trivial incident 
became interesting, and any occurrence out of 
our usual dull routine was a thing to be re- 
membered. A little trouble had been brewing 
Tvith the steward, which culminated about the 
time we reached our antipodes, and which I 
will not pass over. 

I have ah-eady explained that the steward 
was possessed of a great deal of unattractive- 
ness externally, and, unfortunately for him, he 
took no pains to counteract any false impres- 
sions his outside appearance might produce. 
He was not suave. His smile was always a 
gloomy one, and evidently, judging from the 
cast of his eyes, not intended for you. When 
he spoke to you, he looked at the mainmast 
with one eye, and off the starboard beam with 
the other. Such a man could never have 
much success in making love, especially with 
other men, and he was never in high favor 
With the " people " forward. 

But worse than this, he was saving; and he 
saved for the ship's interest, — or rather for 
the owners. Or it may have been for neither, 
but because it was so natural for him to save. 
He had charge of the cabin stores, and of all 
except the fundamental articles of diet that 
were to be allotted to the people. The tea, 
coftee, molasses, dried apples, all came 
through him, and were savored with his stin- 
giness. The people murmured, and looked 
upon the steward with evil eyes. The coftee, 
especially, was so weak, that their complaints 



could not fail to reach the steward's ears, 
though he seemed to heed them not. Thus 
it was forward ; and when I went to live in 
the steerage, it was still more so there. The 
cooper threatened vengeance on " that nigger " 
every morning, when the coftee came down. 

The doctor, — that is, the cook, — who was 
as generous hearted as the steward was stingy, 
had attempted to show the cabin functionary 
the injustice of his course, venturing to speak 
in behalf of the people. The steward would 
listen in iinpressive silence, till the doctor 
was all through, and then reply with dig- 
nity, — 

"Doctor, dese people don'no when dey's 
well off". Dey gets good libin' — all dat b'longs 
to um, and den dey wants more. I tells ye, 
doctor, it's no use talkin' ; dese folks can't pre- 
shate it." 

And then, with his eyes turned heavenward, 
as nearly as he could get them, he would 
shamble aft again, his hands filled with good 
things for the cabin table. 

This continued till Bungs, for one, thought 
endurance no longer a virtue. One day the 
doctor reported a remark of the steward's to 
this effect : — 

"You knows, doctor, dat what we's got to 
do, is to do our duties ; an' you knows, too, 
doctor, dat our duties is to take care ob de 
perwishuns, — what's in de ship. De tea and 
coftee b'longs to de owners, ««' / sail use um 
^cordin^ to de bess ob my judgme7it ! " 

Then Bungs, forgetting to whom vengeance 
belongeth, took a solemn oath that he would 
have it himself; and the steward was made to 
feel the weight of his wrath the next inorning, 
the coffee being at that time unusually weak. 
He filled his pot from the bucket, after I had 
set it down upon the deck in the centre of our 
little apartment, and tasted it. His visage 
lowered, and he set the pot down upon his 
chest. Without uttering a word, he rose and 
took up the bucket and went to the foot of the 
steerage stairs, where he silently waited. Soon 
he heard the well-known shufliing feet of the 
steward, as he passed the hatchway going for- 
ward to the galley. Then, with the bucket in 
his determined grasp, he darted lightly up the 
steps, and sprang after his victim. I was just 
in time to see the bucket come down with 
crushing force, apparently, upon the steward's 
head. 

But he did not fall. Instead, he took two or 
three quick steps forward, and then turned, 
with an astonished look, and asked sol- 
eninly, — 

"Who hit me wid dat bucket.? Bress me, 




THE EQUINOCTIAL. 



ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN. 



167 



cooper, was dat you? Wha' for you go spoil 
de bucket in dat way?" 

The bucket had rolled into the lee scuppers, 
evidently in a damaged condition. 

"Never mind the bucket, darky. I ought 
to have known better than to smash it on your 
confounded pate, of course ; but mind ye, I'll 
use the adze next time ! " 

"What's I done, cooper? What's you got 
'ginst me? I allers does my duties — don't I?" 

" I say, old squint, we won't have any trou- 
ble ; but if you don't give us better tea and 
coffee, and a full allowance of all that be- 
longs to us, I'll let daylight into you in some 
way ; mind that ! " 

It was a plain way of putting things, but it 
had the desired effect. We had better coffee, — 
at least it was thicker and blacker ; and it was 
evident in other ways that the steward's liber- 
ality had been much enlarged by the cooper's 
treatment. 

It may seem that the proper way in this case 
would have been to go to the captain, and 
request him to remedy the matter. Though I 
do not know that any direct complaint was 
made to him, he heard of the trouble through 
the officers, and it was understood from them 
that he preferred that the men should settle it 
with the steward themselves. 

After this affair we had little to enliven us 
for a time. The next thing I remember of in- 
terest, was a gale we experienced off Van Die- 
men's Land. A gale at sea is nothing unusual, 
and of course we had experienced more or less 
of what might be called gales before reaching 
Van Diemen's Land ; but the one we there 
encountered was really frightful. 

It was a cold, gloomy morning when it be- 
gan to blow. The sun shone dimly when it 
rose, but was soon wholly obscured by thick, 
fleecy, driving clouds. We began to take in 
sail, stowing and reefing as the gale increased, 
till there was nothing exposed but a close-reefed 
foi-e- topmast, main-topsail, staysail, and main 
spencer. It seemed then as if old ^Eolus was 
doing his best to drive us from the very face of 
the deep. Yet the gale increased, continually, 
till by midday its force was terrific. We were 
awed by it, but had our dinners nevertheless, 
the captain saying it would be better to go 
down with full stomachs. 

The captain did not give much time to din- 
ner, however, and after it was over, he stood 
constantly at an open window in the house, 
watching the main-topsail. We had already 
attempted to get in the spencer. The ropes 
had been manned, that it might be brailed up 
quickly, and the outhaul was slackened care- 



fully; but the instant it began to yield, like a 
flash, and with a tremendous crack, the sail 
was driven against the shrouds, pressing be- 
tween them so firmly that all our strength could 
not remove it. Every moment we expected to 
see the topsail torn from the yard, or the yard 
carried away; but everything held, and the 
afternoon passed without accident. 

The seas were not high, for the pressure of 
the wind kept them down ; but the ship was 
tossed by the very force of the gale, quivering 
and plunging in a way that most of us had 
never seen before. The ocean was ploughed 
into furrows of foam, and the air was filled 
with driven spray. 

The gale raged with the same fury through 
the day, and when night came, it seemed more 
terrific, if possible, than before. The thick 
driving clouds shut out all light but the fitful 
flashings of the foaming sea. The winds 
shrieked above, and the strong timbers 
creaked and groaned below. At times the 
deep surging of the ship would cause the bell 
upon the forecastle to strike a dismal note of 
warning, as it were, of our impending doom. 
It was a fearful, and besides, a very uncom- 
fortable night; for we were wet, stiff, and 
chill with the driven spray. 

Through another day, and till the middle 
of another night the gale raged, though not 
with the same fury as at first. During the 
second day the sun's rays reached us occasion- 
ally, though they seemed always to have been 
almost spent in struggling through the clouds, 
and in a little while would fade out and be 
gone. The seas rose higher as the wind 
abated, so that our danger was increased 
rather than diminished. Before night of the 
second day, the great rolling waves were 
frightfully grand. It seemed as if the ship 
would certainly be covered and go down be- 
neath them. Their shocks made her strong 
frame tremble ; and she would stagger, and 
go down, as if it were her last struggle, but 
always rise, to breast them again. At times 
the yard-arms would dip, and the ship go al- 
most upon her beam-ends ; but the huge wave 
would lift her high upon it, and rolling on, 
she would sink again to meet another. 

On the second night of the gale it came my 
turn to stand at the wheel for two hours, — 
from ten to twelve it belonged to me to steer. 
Of course there was little steering to do, yet 
I was not allowed to be at the wheel alone on 
such a night. Phil Southwick, an old sea- 
man, went to stand my trick Avith me, to keep 
the spokes from being wrenched out of my 
hands, and be responsible for what might hap- 



1 68 



ACROSS THE INDIAN OCEAN. 



pen. It was not a bad place to be, for it was 
the driest part of the ship, and the light from 
the lamp in the binnacle looked cheery. 

" Ease her when she pitches," said Mr. 
Bowlegs, as we took our places ; and with a 
confident ' Aj, aj, sir,' Phil gave him to un- 
derstand that he could trust us. 

But we could not save her with all our eas- 
ing. At last, just before the watch was out, a 
tremendous sea fell upon her bows, throwing 
her head off suddenly and covering the deck 
with water, and the next moment another 
struck upon her starboard quarter, lifting the 
stern so high and so suddenly that the binna- 
cle was capsized and went crashing to leeward, 
and there was what sounded like a grand 
smash of crockery in the direction of the 
steward's pantry. Besides, the starboard quar- 
ter-boat was crushed up under the davits and 
broken completely in two. 

It was very dark for a time ; but Mr. Bow- 
legs found his way to us, and wanted to know 
" what in thunder we were about," just as if 
we had done it on purpose. We heard the cap- 
tain's voice, too, inquiring who was at the 
wheel. 

" It's me and Eph, sir," said Phil ; and the 
captain knew as much about it as before. Mr. 
Bowlegs got another light, after a while, and 
then we could see each other, and what had 
happened. By the time the extent of the dam- 
age had been ascertained, and the binnacle 
righted and again secured in its place, our 
watch was out, and we were relieved from all 
further responsibility. 

Nothing more serious happened, and by day- 
light next morning the danger had passed. 
The sun rose in a clear sky, there was only a 
gentle breeze blowing, and the seas were rap- 
idly subsiding. The only damage we had sus- 
tained was the stoven boat, and the parting 
of one or two futtock-shrouds under the main- 
top, — though, perhaps, I ought to include the 
steward's crockery, which, although the pieces 
were greatly multiplied, suifered no small loss. 

But a ship with which we had kept compa- 
ny all the way from the Crozets was less for- 
tunate. We had seen her several times during 
the first day of the gale, like some dim phan- 
tom craft driven by the storm, but had 
wholly lost sight of her before the "first night, 
and did not see her again till past noon of the 
day after it had cleared. We were then run- 
ning on our course with nearly all sail set, 
when the "Luminary" was raised, off our 
beam to southward ; the course she was steer- 
ing evidently converging with our own, and 
bringing us nearer together. The captain 
brought out his glass, and having looked at 



her for a moment, said they wer^ in trouble. 
The ship's colors were set, but were only half- 
mast, and they said as plainly as could be, that 
something was wrong. We kept off; and the 
other ship's course being also changed, we 
drew nearer together. 

Upon coming within hail, we learned that 
five men had been washed overboard from the 
Luminary's decks, by a sea that had swept 
them. The same i-esistless wave had swept the 
whole five away, and in the darkness of night 
they had been swallowed up. It was a fear- 
ful fate, and our spirits sank at the intelligence. 
The ship itself had sustained no serious in- 
jury ; and, after a short visit from our captain 
to his brother skipper, we went on together as 
before. 

At night, when we sat together in our dimly- 
lighted apartment and spoke of what had hap- 
pened, the carpenter thought it was a great 
wonder we had not all gone down in that 
dreadful storm. 

" If I had known they ever had such times 
at sea," said he, " I would never have come." 

"Never mind, Chips," said Bungs ; "we'll 
get you home all right yet ; only keep a stiff 
upper lip, and lay low when it blows." 

" I'll tell you what it is," said Smut; " as a 
general thing, folks live too long. Now, if 
Chips could only be taken off in this way, it 
would be better for him, probably, and the rest 
of us would get along just as well." 

Chips looked at Smut gloomily, and made no 
reply. But Bungs remai-ked, reflectively, — 

"After all, it can't make a great deal of dif- 
ference how, or when, provided we do our duty 
here." 

"That's it," says Smut ; " z/" -we do our duty 
here.''' And he looked hard at Chips. 

" I've done the best I could," Chips replied. 

"Ay, Chips, I reckon you have; but you 
made an awful mistake when you undertook 
to do carpenter's duty in the Old North. 
However, we're all liable to mistakes ; and as 
long as they are mistakes, I reckon they won't 
be set down against us. I can't say I wish 
you any harm, Chips. Just keep a stiff upper 
lip, as Bungs says, and do the best youcan, and 
you'll come out all right at last." 



GOLD MINING. 



169 



llWi^rj^^-rf'".. /^ff# 




Hydraulic Mining. Page 172. 



GOLD MINING. 



BY CHARLES A. HOYT. 



UNLIKE silver, gold is usually found in a 
native state, though it sometimes occurs 
combined with some of the rarer metals, and 
as an amalgam with mercury. But, commer- 
cially considered, these ores and alloys are so 
rare as to be of no practical importance, and 
are not depended upon as a source of the 
precious metal. It is found in veins which 
are very similar in general character and 
structure to those containing silver ores; but 
the gold is either disseminated through a 
gangue of quartz, or is associated with iron and 
copper pyrites. Many of you have seen py- 
rites. It is, you remember, a yellow, brassy- 
looking mineral, composed of iron and sul- 
phur (iron pyrites), or iron, copper, and 
sulphur (copper pyrites). The two minerals 
can be easily distinguished, as the former is 
much whiter than the latter, which is quite 
yellow, and has often been mistaken for gold ; 
hence it is sometimes called " fools' " gold." 
Pyrites is of common occurrence all over the 
country, but does not by &ny means always 
contain gold, though in the Rocky Mountains, 
and west to the Pacific coast, it invariably 
carries more or less of it. That which you 
have seen, however, appeared exactly like that 



which has gold in it, for this metal is very 
rarely visible. When the gold is in quartz 
more or less free from pyrites, it occurs in 
thin plates, threads, and grains, often making 
verj' pretty specimens, some of which are used 
for pins and watch-charms. But in a great 
deal of this gold-bearing rock you would not 
be able to detect an atom of the metal, al- 
though it might pay handsomely for working. 

Galena and zinc-blende are occasionally 
present in gold lodes, though less frequently 
than pyrites. 

These ores, like all others, vary greatjy in 
richness in different veins and localities. Some 
are profitably worked in California which 
yield only five dollars to the ton. To make 
so low a grade of ore pay, it must occur in 
large quantities and be easily mined; but ores 
which yield in the stamp mills ten dollars per 
ton are very frequently quite remunerative. 
Those which carry upwards of forty or fifty 
dollars per ton are considered rich, though 
ores are often found very much richer. When 
3'ou remember that a Troy ounce of gold is 
worth twenty dollars and sixty-seven cents, 
coin value, and that there are twenty-nine 
thousand one hundred and sixty-six of these 
ounces in a ton of two thousand Avoirdupois 
pounds, you will realize what a minute quan- 
tity of the mass treated is really saved. For 
instance, in a ten-dollar ore, only seventeen 



170 



GOLD MINING. 



one thousandths of one per cent., or one fifty- 
eight thousand three hundred and thirty- 
second part of the ore, is obtained as a final 
result. It seems hardly possible that any ores 
can be profitably worked to secure so small a 
portion of them. 

Most of the gold-bearing quartz is crushed 
in "stamp-mills," where it is pulverized un- 
der large iron stamps, weighing from four 
hundred and fifty to seven hundred pounds 
each. After it becomes quite fine it is carried 
away from the stamps by a stream of water 
over long, thin plates of copper, which have 
been coated with a layer of mercury or quick- 
silver. The mercury has such an affinity for 
gold, that it catches and retains all that comes 
in contact with it, forming an amalgam. This 
amalgam is scraped from the copper plates, 
and heated in a sort of iron crucible having 
a cover. The heat drives off" the mercury, 
which is carried by a pipe connected with 
the cover of the crucible, or retort, as it is 
called, under water, where it is condensed, 
and is ready to be used again. The gold re- 
mains in the retort in a metallic state. Some 
of the richer ores, especially when much cop- 
per pyrites is present, are smelted, and the 
copper, as well as the gold, saved. 

The mining of gold in veins is conducted 
in the same manner as for silver; and hav- 
ing already told you, in a former article, 
how that is done, it is unnecessary to repeat 
the process here. 

Although large amounts of gold are now 
obtained from veins, or lodes, far more has 
been taken from " alluvial deposits." The 
lodes, having been exposed for ages to the 
action of the atmosphere, the gnawing of the 
frost, and the wear and tear of streams, have 
been slowly worn away, and the quartz and 
ores broken into fragments, ground up into 
gravel and sand, and carried by mountain 
torrents far away from their source, to be de- 
posited in gulches, valleys, and on plains 
and hill-sides, over which the water once 
ran, or stood in lakes. Gold, being one of 
the heaviest metals known, — nearly double 
the weight of lead, with which we are accus- 
tomed to compare all heavy substances, — sank 
more rapidly than the rock and mineral which 
accompanied it, and found its way to the bot- 
toin of the lake and river basins over which it 
was conveyed. In this manner vast amounts 
of gold have been scattered throughout the 
valleys and plains near the mountainous re- 
gions in which the veins abound ; and it is 
from this source that most of it is taken. It 
always exists there as native gold, and has to 

VOL. XIV. — NO. 242. 39 



go through no complicated process to be ob- 
tained in a metallic state. 

From this fact, and from its early mention 
in the Bible and all ancient writings, we may 
safely conclude it was one of the very first 
metals known. It has been generally believed 
for a long time that the ancient Ophir, from 
which King Solomon brought so much gold 
for his famous Temple, was located some- 
where on the south-eastern coast of Africa ; and 
recently' some who profess to be wise in such 
matters claim that the new diamond fields of 
that country are the site of that long-sought 
land, as gold is found in the vicinity, as well 
as evidence of former workings. 




Placer Mining 

The gold in the alluvial deposits is usually 
found next the " bed-rock," that is, below the 
soil, lying in a thin stratum of sand or gravel 
upon the rock which underlies, and occurs 
there in the form of grains, varying in size 
from fine sand to that of a small pea, in thin 
plates or leaves, and in irregular nuggets. 
Some very large nuggets have been found. 
One was discovered in Australia weighing 
one hundred and eighty-four pounds, which 
yielded over forty thousand dollars. Califor- 
nia has produced some big ones. But the 
largest ever found came from Australia, and 
was known as the " Sarah Sands." It weighed 
two hundred and thirty-three Troy pounds. 
Of course these great nuggets are very rare, 
as one weighing an ounce or two is considered 
of good size. This native gold is never quite 
pure, being alwaj's alloyed with a little silver; 
and occasionallj' a very «;««// quantity of cop- 
per and iron is present. 

In places the soil — boulders, sand, and 
gravel, termed alluvium, or alluvial deposit — 
is over two hundred feet deep, while in other 



GOLD MINING. 



171 



localities it is but a few feet thick. The object 
of mining in these deposits is to separate the 
gold from the dirt and gravel, and collect it 
by itself. This is called " placer mining," 
which is also subdivided into deep and shal- 
low, and into bai-, gulch, hill, and river min- 
ing, according to the situation in which the 
gold is found; whether on bars or flats formed 
by streams, in narrow ravines or gulches, on 
hill-sides, or in the channels of living rivers. 

Various methods of securing the gold are 
used; but they are all based on the great spe- 
cific gravity of the metal, which causes it to 
sink rapidly in water, while the lighter rock 
and soil are carried away by the current. The 
simplest and oldest of the contrivances for 
separating the gold and the worthless dirt is 
the " pan." This is merely a sheet-iron vessel, 
about the size of the large milk-pans you have 
seen, but with its sides sloping much more. 




The Cradle. 

This is filled with the dirt, or pulverized 
quartz, which it is desired to test, and then 
dipped under water, while the mass is stirred 
and softened by the hand. The pan is then 
taken from the water, and a gentle shaking 
and rotary motion is given it, as the water is 
carefully poured off". The motion causes the 
larger pebbles to come to the surface of the 
dirt, from which they are then removed. By 
repeatedly filling the pan with water, and giv- 
ing it the proper motion as it is poured out 
again, all the dirt and gravel are washed away, 
finally leaving the gold in a long, thin layer 



along the angle formed bj' the sides and bot- 
tom of the pan. This is called " panning; " 
and an expert panner can detect the gold when 
there is only a few cents' worth present. 

In the early mining days of California, the 
"cradle" and "long-torn" were generally 
used. The former of these is shown in the 
illustration, and can be briefly described as 
two boxes, one placed above the other, the 
lower one supported by rockers, like those on 
a child's cradle. The bottom of the upper 
box is of sheet-iron, full of small holes. Into 
this box the dirt is put, and water poured over 
it, while the whole is rocked to and fro. The 
finer dirt and the gold are washed through to 
the lower box, from one end of which the wa- 
ter flows off. Across the bottom of this box 
narrow strips of board, termed "riffle-bars," 
are fastened, and the gold, settling to the bot- 
tom, is caught behind them, and is removed 
from time to time. Fresh dirt is constantly 
added to the upper box, and whatever does 
not go. through the holes in the bottom is 
thrown out by hand. 

The long-tom consists of a rough wooden 
trough about twelve feet long, placed with one 
end considerably' higher than the other. Across 
the lower end is a piece of sheet-iron, with 
good-sized holes in it, to keep the larger peb- 
bles and rocks from passing through. A stream 
of water is introduced at the upper end, and 
dirt is shovelled in and kept constantly stirred 
about, so that it may be thoroughly disinte- 
grated. The water carries all but the coarse 
gravel through the sheet-iron screen into a 
long trough below, in which rifile-bars are 
placed to retain the gold. Sometimes quick- 
silver is introduced in the riffle-box, to aid ia 
catching the precious metal. Both the cradle 
and long-tom are imperfect and slow, so that 
they are now but seldom used, being replaced 
by sluices and hydraulic mining. 

Nearly all the gold now obtained by placer 
mining is saved in sluices. These are of va- 
rious sizes; the smallest are long, narrow 
wooden boxes, without end-pieces or covers, 
through which water is kept constantly flow- 
ing, and into which the dirt containing the 
gold is thrown. Each box is provided with 
riffle-bars, which retards the water somewhat, 
and allows the gold to sink behind them. 
These boxes are about twelve feet long, and 
from twelve to eighteen inches wide. One 
end is a little wider than the other, so that 
another box can be fitted to it, and thus a 
long line of them made, often hundreds of 
feet in length. A large amount of dirt can 
be washed througli them each day, so (hat 



172 



GOLD MINING. 



very poor ground can be profitably worked by 
using them. A number of men can add the 
dirt, while one or two are employed in throw- 
ing outthe larger boulders which may find their 
way in. Instead of having wooden riffle-bars, 
the bottom of the boxes are sometimes com- 
pactly paved with small pebbles, and the gold 
is caught in the interstices. Mercury is almost 
always used to save the finer gold, which 
would otherwise be carried away by the wa- 
ter. Frequently the sluices are not cleaned 
up for a week, while others are cleaned every 
day, depending on the richness of the ground 
worked, and the honesty of the neighbors. 

You would not care to hear in detail the 
various ways In which the sluice-boxes are 
used; so we will pass at once to hydraulic 
mining, which is of more importance. 

It is often necessary to remove immense 
quantities of soil and gravel before the pay- 
streak is reached, which it would be impossi- 
ble to do by hand. Hydraulic mining accom- 
plishes this quickly and cheaply. By means 
of long ditches and flumes, water is conveyed 
into large tanks, which stand high above the 
place where it is to be used. From these 
tanks the water is carried through large can- 
vas hose to the desired locality, and directed 
against the bank or hill to be washed away. 
By having the tanks so high, a great pressure 
is obtained, and the water is thrown thi-ough 
the nozzle at the end of the hose with im- 
mense force. It is like the stream from a 
steam fire-engine, only very much more pow- 
erful. Several streams are used at once, and 
you can hardly imagine the amount of work 
they accomplish. High banks and large hills 
seem to melt before them, so rapidly are they 
borne away. 

All the soil and debris are carried into large 
sluices by the water. These sluices are often 
six or seven feet in width, and are very long. 
They are paved with sections of large trees, 
or with stones, and the gold settles in the 
spaces between them. They have to be very 
strong and durable, as boulders weighing 
several hundred pounds are often carried with 
the stream. You would not suppose that 
much of the gold would be caught in such 
rude and imperfect contrivances as these 
sluices appear to be ; but they answer the pur- 
pose very well ; and, as I have before said, 
nearly all the gold is saved in them which is 
obtained from placer mines. There was a 
gravel bed in California made to pay quite 
well by hydraulic mining, which yielded at 
the rate of only three cents per ton of gravel. 
Over four thousand tons were washed down 



each day. This is the poorest dirt ever made 
to pay, I believe. 

Large sums of money have been expended 
in getting water for hydraulic mining. The 
ground to be worked is often so high above 
the neighboring streams that the water from 
them cannot be made available ; so it has to 
be brought long distances in ditches and 
flumes. A flume is merely a wooden trough, 
usually supported on trestle-work, and is used 
to carry the water over deep valleys and ra- 
vines. One of the illustrations to this article 
shows a flume belonging to one of the main 
ditch companies of California. The aggre- 
gate length of the ditch, with its side-branch- 
es, is over two hundred miles, and its cost was 
about one million dollars. There is another 
company in that state which has a ditch that 
has cost six hundred thousand dollars. These 
companies sell the water to the miners, and 
make a great deal of money by the operation. 




Sluice Box.- 



In some places, where a number of parties 
are mining, and where the sluices used by 
them fail to save the greater portion of the 
gold, a long line of large sluice-boxes is erect- 
ed lower in the valley, and all the water from 
above is carried through them, and thus a 
good part of the remaining gold is caught. 
These are called " tail-sluices." 

Sometimes small rivers are turned from 
their regular channels, and their old beds 
worked over by the indefatigable miners. This 
is called river-mining, and is very uncertain, 
though it often pays extremely well. 

Gold has also been found in paying quanti- 
ties in some of the sands of the Pacific coast. 
It originally existed in the sandstone rocks of 
that locality, and these, having been worn 
away by the waves, have left the gold on the 
beach. This is collected at low tide and car- 
ried away to some neighboring stream, and 
washed in a cradle or lona^-tom. 



GOLD MINING, 



173 



■ But enough has been written to give jou 
an idea of gold-mining in its various branch- 
es, so that I will not tire you by entering into 
further details. It is, on the whole, a hard 
and laborious business. Years are sometimes 
spent by the miner in getting at some partic- 
ular point in a favorite locality, where he ex- 
pects to obtain a golden hai-vest; but often he 
finds that all his labor has been in vain, and 
the gold has existed only in his imagination. 




A Flume. 

Rivers are successfully turned from their 
course, after much trouble and expense, and 
the happy workmen think that on the morrow 
they can begin to realize the fortune they feel 
is in store for them. That night, perhaps, a 
storm rages far up among the snow-covered 
mountains, and the tiny stream is in a few 
hours swollen to a mad, resistless torrent, 
which tears away the petty dam, and in a 
moment effaces the work of months, leaving 
the miner nothing but his golden visions and 
a lost summer to reflect upon. 

A report comes in that in a remote corner 
of some distant wilderness gold is being 
found in fabulous quantities. The miner, 
always seeking something richer than he pos- 
sesses, hurriedly packs his few traps and tools, 
and hastens away to the new land. After a 
painful and dangerous journey, filled with 
hardships and privations, he reaches the 
promised land only to find once more that 
the old maxim, " Green fields are ever in the 



distance," has been verified. He has but to 
make his way back, a sadder and a poorer 
man. 

Such are some of the dark sides of a miner's 
life ; but it also has its brighter features. 
Dams are not always carried away, nor tun- 
nels driven in vain, nor journeys always fruit- 
less. Large fortunes are sometimes quickly 
made, and the poor, ragged miner is trans- 
formed into the revered and respected capi- 
talist. A few square j'ards of earth have 
made many a miner's fortune. But those who 
embark in mining with the idea that they will 
acquire wealth without hard work, and with- 
out years of patient perseverance, will gener- 
ally find themselves sadly mistaken. Perse- 
verance and industry are more necessary in 
mining than in almost any business known. 
And you will find, my kind readers, what- 
ever pursuit you follow, that these are the 
requisites for success, and without them you 
may as well look for gold in Plymouth granite 
as to hope for fame or fortune. 




74 



SILVER MINING. 




Miners at Work. 



SILVER MINING. 

BY CHARLES A. HOYT. 

LONG ago, when gold and silver, in the 
shape of coin, were more common than 
now, I used often to wonder where and in 
what condition these metals were found. I 
was told they were "dug" from the earth; 
but this reply was never very satisfactory, nor 
did it throw much more light on the subject 
than I had before. Perhaps it is the same with 
some of you, so that it may be interesting to 
know how they occur, and the way they are 
mined. I will try to tell you. As I am writing 
from a region where silver is found, we will 
give our attention to that metal first, and per- 
haps at another time I will give you some 
facts about gold mining. 

Silver is seldom found in large quantities 
in its native state; that is, it is usually com- 
bined with other metals and earths ; although 
it is said that a mass of silver was discov- 
ered, many years ago, in one of the mines 
of Germany, from off which the king and all 
his court ate their dinner. This is a rare 
exception, however, for almost always it oc- 
curs as an ore. The richest silver ores are 
sulphurets of silver, that is, silver chemically 
combined with sulphur; and chloride of sil- 
ver, or silver united with chlorine. There 
are many varieties of the former ore, where 
other metals accompany the silver. Lead, 



copper, arsenic, and antimony are most fre- 
quently associated with it in this way. Prob- 
ably most of you have seen galena, the prin- 
cipal ore of lead, which is simply that metal 
combined with sulphur. There is scarcely 
any of it which does not contain more or less 
of silver; and, indeed, a very large portion 
of the silver produced is derived from lead 
ores. 

The ores vary greatly in richness, some 
containing only a few dollars' and others sev- 
eral thousand dollars' worth to the ton. A 
pure chloride of silver contains over twenty- 
eight thousand dollars, and some forms of 
sulphuret ores over thirty thousand dollars 
in silver to the ton of ore ; though they are not 
found to any extent in a pure state, but are 
mined with other ores, rocks, and earthy mat- 
ter. In the old world, where labor is very 
cheap, ores carrying from twenty to thirty 
dollars a ton can be worked at a profit. But 
here (Colorado) silver ores containing much 
less than eighty dollars a ton cannot at pres- 
ent be worked, owing to the high price of la- 
bor and supplies. Of course, where there is 
much lead present it can be saved too, so 
that such an ore need not contain as much 
silver to be mined profitably. But I may be 
tiring you by saying so much about the ores ; 
so we will now see how and where they are 
found. 

They always occur in veins. By a " vein " I 



SILVER MINING. 



^75 



mean a fissure, or immense crack, in the 
earth's crust, of great depth and length, but 
varying in width from a few inches to many 
feet, which has been filled with the ore and 
rock. The rock filling these fissures or cracks 
is usually different from that surrounding it, 
and is called " gangue-rock." The sides of the 
vein are termed "wall-rocks." Sometimes 
these veins are perpendicular, and others slant, 
or " dip," as it is called, so much that one 
can walk down them when opened by mining. 
You may ask where the silver came from to 
get into these fissures. That question has 
puzzled a great many wiser heads than yours 
and mine, and has not yet been definitely an- 
swered ; so we will not try to solve it here. 
Let us be satisfied to find it in the veins, with- 
out troubling ourselves just now as to 'ts 
origin. 

Some veins are soft and easily worked, and 
others are as hard as granite. There are very 
few indeed which can be worked without blast- 
ing. The ore is sometimes scattered through 
the gangue-rock, and at times it occurs as a 
little vein by itself, enclosed by the gangue, 
and varying greatly in thickness, being at 
one place, for example, six inches thick, and 
at another point, only a few feet distant, but 
an inch, then, a few yards deeper, a foot thick, 
and so on. If you should take a very uneven 
sheet of lead, at some points very thick and 
at others quite thin, and place it on its edge 
in a large, thin, but deep box, such as large 
panes of glass usually come in, and should 
then fill up on each side of the lead with sand, 
you would have quite a fair representation of 
an ore vein, or " lode," in which the lead would 
be the ore, the sand the gangue, and the sides 
of the box the wall-rocks. 

But the wall-rocks are never as regular and 
smooth as the sides of the box, but often come 
close together, almost cutting the vein off": then 
again they bulge out like a sail in a gale of 
wind, making the vein very wide between 
them. Thus, you see, an ore vein is very ir- 
regular, here rich and there poor, narrow in 
one place and wide in another. When a lode 
becomes pinched and without ore, it is said 
to be in " cap." These "caps," or pinches, 
are often extensive, and are great obstacles in 
working a mine. 

Some veins can be traced along the surface 
for miles, and others can be followed for but 
a few hundred feet. In Europe there are silver 
mines which have been worked to a depth of 
three thousand feet, and as yet no bottom or 
end found. As to the width, they vary greatly, 
as I have before said. In this vicinity their 



average width is from three to six feet. In 
Mexico there is a famous silver mine which is 
in some places seventy feet wide; and the 
Comstock lode of Nevada is often over one 
hundred feet in width, and at other points only 
a few feet. 

The ore in some veins is rich, and in others 
poor, and it also varies greatly at diff'erent lo- 
calities on the same vein. Lodes are generally 
found in mountainous regions, where earth- 
quakes and volcanoes formerly prevailed, and 
in the same districts thej' usually have the same 
course or direction. 

Having learned how the veins most fre- 
quently occur, we will now see how they are 
worked. I will describe mining as it is con- 
ducted here; for, although each locality has 
its peculiarities, the general principles of min- 
ing are the same everywhere. 




The first thing to be done is to sink a shaft, 
which is a sort of well dug on the vein. It is 
from eight to twelve feet long, and about four 
feet wide, with the corners square, and is sunk 
as nearly perpendicular as it can be and yet 
follow the ore v6in. Until the solid rock is 
reached the shaft is sunk with a shovel and 
pickaxe, after which it becomes necessary to 
blast. Pieces of round steel, about an inch in 
diameter and from one to four feet long, sharp- 
ened at one end like a cold-chisel, are called 
drills. These, with a hammer weighing from 
six to eight pounds, are the principal tools 
used in blasting. Our shaft is down to the 
solid rock, we will suppose. One man now 
takes a short drill and places its sharpened 
edge on a suitable part of the rock; another 
seizes the hammer with both hands and strikes 
the head of the drill, lightly at first, until the 
hole is fairly started, and then with his full 



176 



SILVER MINING. 



strength. The one holding the drill turns it 
partially around between the strokes, and thus 
it cuts its way into the rock, making a hole a 
little larger than its own diameter. When it 
is a few inches deep, water is poured in to 
make it bore easily. From time to time the 
fine rock is scraped out with an iron scraper, 
and the drill is changed as soon as dulled. 
The hole is usually sunk from two to three 
feet, when it is ready to load. It is now care- 
fully cleaned and drigd. A piece of fuse, a 
little longer than the hole is deep, is inserted 
and held on the upper side of the hole. A few 
inches of powder are added next, then fine 
dirt is pushed down with a stick until the 
powder is covered several inches deep, when 
more dirt is put in and forced down by an iron 
bar, under light blows from a hammer, until 
the hole is filled. This latter part is called 
" tamping." The fuse is lighted, and the men 
retire until the powder is exploded. Some- 
times it fails to go off, in which case the tamp- 
ing has to be drilled out and a new charge 




Head of Drift. 

inserted. This is very dangerous, as often, 
while it is being re-drilled, the powder takes 
fire. Many a life has been lost in this way. 
Occasionally, too, the powder " blows tamp- 
ing; " that is, blows out the dirt from the hole 
without breaking the rock, in which case a 
new charge is put in and more carefully tamped. 
But our shot was successful, and broke a good 
quantity of rock, which the men ai-e clearing 
away, so that they can start another hole. 

Thus they will keep on until the shaft is 
about ten feet deep, when a windlass will be 
necessary to raise the rock with. The wind- 
lass has a crank at both ends, and has an inch 
rope around it, to which is attached a bucket 
made of a half barrel. With this the shaft 
can be sunk about one hundred feet, when an 
engine or a hor,se will be needed for hoisting 
the rock and water, as nearly all mines are 
wet, from the water leaking through the crev- 
ice from the surface, and sometimes springing 
up from below. 



This drilling you will think is slow work. 
So it is, as it often takes two or three hours to 
drill a single hole. At first j'ou would hardly 
care to hold the drill while another was strik- 
ing; but the miners are very expert, and sel- 
dom miss their stroke. Sometimes two sti-ike ; 
and in some countries the miner holds the 
drill with one hand and strikes with the other, 
which is called "single-hand drilling." In the 
latter case the steel and hammer are both 
smaller than those I have mentioned. 

When the shaft is about sixty feet deep, 
" drifts " are started. These are galleries high 
enough for a man to walk in, and about four 
feet wide (depending on the width of the vein), 
following horizontally along the lode each 
way from the shaft. As they increase in 
length, the broken rock is wheeled back to the 
shaft and raised to the surface. When the 
drifts are in far enough from the shaft, work 
is resumed there, and it is sunk another sixty 
or a hundred feet, where two more drifts are 
started, the same as the ones just described. 

You may ask what is the use of the shaft 
and drifts, as they cannot produce any great 
amount of ore. Well, they cannot. Some, 
of course, has been taken out, but the work 
thus far has probably cost more than the ore 
is worth. We have onlj^ been getting ready 
to work. Now we can begin to " stope " (pro- 
nounce the long). I don't know whether I 
can make you understand what " stoping " is, 
but I will try. 

In sinking the shafts and running the drifts, 
we have, you remember, followed the ore vein, 
so that as you stand in the former the ore is 
in the bottom and each end of it, and in the 
drifts is over our heads and under our feet. 
Now you can see that it will be a great deal 
easier to break down the vein above the drift, 
than it was to open the drift itself. That is 
called " overhand " or " back stoping." If we 
should drill a hole in the floor of the drift 
near the shaft, you see the powder would have 
a good chance to throw the rock out into the 
shaft; this is called " underhand stoping." 
We will only attend to " back stoping." 

The drifts are now quite long, and we can 
begin to take out ore in paying quantities. 
We will put the men at work where the drift 
starts from the shaft. They will blast down 
the rock over the drift for a space six or seven 
feet high, and about as wide as the drift itself. 
All of the broken rock will fall into the " level" 
(same as drift), be wheeled out to the shaft, 
and from there raised to the surface. Thus 
the two miners will be cutting a new drift, you 
might say, over the old one, or making the old 



SILVER MINING. 



177 



level twice as high as it was at first. Mean- 
while the drift is being carried along, too, 
the end of it, or " heading," being so far 
in advance of the stope that it is not inter- 
fered with bj those who are working the 
latter. 

Let us suppose that the men on the stope 
have now gone about thirty feet from the shaft, 
so that it is time to set two more at work 
above them. But we must first prepare for 
it. Small holes, or " hitches," are cut in the 
walls each side of the drift, high enough for 
a man to easily walk under them. These 
hitches are as nearly opposite one another as 
possible, but those on one wall are higher than 
those on the other, and on each wall they are 
about four feet apart. Stout logs, about a 
foot in diameter, are now tightly fitted into 
these hitches, from wall to wall, across the 
drift, and smaller logs, about twelve feet 
long, are laid lengthwise of the drift, upon 
these cross-pieces; thus making a roof for 
the gallery and a floor for the stope. The 
cross-pieces ai-e called " stulls," and the ones 
lying upon them* are known as "lagging." 
Now we are ready to work two more men on 
the stope. They will also commence at the 
shaft, and blast down the roof of the stope 
for about six feet in height, following those 
who have just preceded them ; but instead of 
the broken rock falling into the drift it will 
fall upon the stulls and lagging recently put 
up. Here it will be looked over, and the ore 
thrown into the drift and then taken to the 
surface, while the worthless rock will be left 
on the lagging. Timbers will be put in so 
that no rock can fall from the stulls into the 
shaft. Holes are left in the lagging where the 
oi-e can be thrown down to the drift. 

Now that part of the vein lying between 
the first gallery and the surface can be stoped 
out, the rock being left on the stulls, which, 
when properly put in, will support an enor- 
mous weight, while the ore is raised to the 
sui-face. Meanwhile the shaft has been sunk 
on, new drifts run, and stoping carried on 
throughout the mine as fast as possible. 
The shaft and drifts are to explore the 
vein and to open stoping grounds, as by 
stoping much more rock can be broken, and 
more ore taken out, at the same expense, than 
from the shaft or galleries. 

I forgot to state that at about every ten or 
twelve feet in depth — sometimes oftener, de- 
pending on the nature of the wall-rocks — 
stulls are put across each end of the shaft, 
ahd timbers resting on these are laid along 
each side of the shaft. By means of plank 
12 



and timbers stretching from one set of these 
timbers to the next set below, the shaft is di- 
vided into compartments. Thus we have a 
ladder-way to go up and down upon, a com- 
partment for the pump, if one is needed to 
drain the mine, and a bucket-way through 
which the ore and rock are hoisted. 

I have tried to show you, in the preceding 
pages, how a mine is opened ; and, to complete 
the lesson, will take you, as well as I can on 
paper, into one which we will suppose has 
been worked for years, and is well devel- 
oped. 




Gallery. 

Here we are in the shaft-house at the mouth 
of the shaft. The ore is lying in large piles 
around us, and the men and boys are busily 
engaged in hammer-dressing it (breaking off 
the rock from the ore), and sorting it into 
different classes, according to its richness. 
Others are weighing it, and loading the wag- 
ons which carry it to the mills, where the sil- 
ver is extracted. Through the open door 
yonder you can see the glow of the forges 
where the drills are being sharpened, and 
worn-out buckets and tools repaired. Step 
into this room and see the engine working 
silently and steadily, and yet so powerfully. 
It moves the pump and hoists all the rock and 
ore from the mine, so easily that you would 
never imagine it was doing anything. Hark! 
a little bell has just struck, and see, there 
goes the bucket down by the run ; another 
stroke, and the rope ceases to run out, so you 
know the bucket has stopped somewhere far 
below us. The little bell has struck twice 
this time, the rope is coming up now, and here 
is the bucket filled with glistening ore. No, 
that is not silver that you see ; it is merely ga- 
lena, which is almost as bright as silver when 
freshly broken. You can see no silver in it, 
and yet that piece you have in your hand con- 
tains it at the rate of perhaps a thousand dol- 
lars a ton. 



178 



SILVER MINING, 



Here come some miners dressed in their 
canvas suits. They are going below; so thej 
light their candles, fasten them in their hats, 
and three of them step into the bucket togeth- 
er, give the signal, and down they go. It is 
time we were going down, too ; so put on this 
pair of overalls, this old jacket and hat, and 
you are ready. Come over to the ladder-way, 
light your candle, and then follow me. The 
ladders are nearly perpendicular, but they are 
perfectly safe. Hold your candle between 
your thumb and forefinger, and come on. 




The Slope. 

We have come down about thirty feet only, 
and will now step off to the left to look at 
this stope. 'We are standing on a mass of 
broken rock, which rests on the stulls above 
the first drifts, some thirty feet still below us. 
You can hear the faint stroke a hammer far 
ahead, where men are at work. Come on. 
Lookout for this "mill hole," where the ore 
is thrown down to the drift. Hold your can- 
dle up and see the vein of ore over our heads. 
Where you stand it is narrow; but see here; 
where I am it is nearly a foot wide. It looks 
dull and dirty, from the powder smoke. You 
can see the glimmer of candles in advance, 
and here the men are drilling. Well, let us 
hurry down; but we can keep on our way until 
we come to another shaft, which was sunk to 
cause a circulation of air in the mine, and 
hence called the " air-shaft." It is smaller 
than the other, but has a good set of ladders 
in it, so that in case of accident the miners 
can have two ways of escape. Here we are, 



down to the first " level " (same as drift), which 
is several hundred feet in length. Come to 
the end of it and see the ore. Here are two 
more miners; but they have just "shot," — 
you can smell the powder-smoke, — and are 
loading the car, which runs on this wooden 
track beneath our feet. There they go with 
it out to the shaft. Yes, the vein is looking 
well here. 

Now we will cross over the shaft into the 
drift on the other side. Here we find a car 
and track, too; in fact, we shall find them in 
every drift of any length, as they are very 
much better than wheelbarrows. See these 
stulls over your head ; they are supporting 
forty feet of loose rock. If one should give 
way, it would be bad for us. The vein does 
not look so well in this heading; in fact, there 
is no ore at all. It has been pinched here for 
some time; but it will open out again in a few 
feet, probably. We will go down this "winze " 
to the next level. What is a winze.? you ask. 
Merely a small shaft connecting one level 
with another. 

Here is the ladder, and here we go down, 
much of the way through ground which has 
been stoped. The rock resting on the stulls 
below is carefully secured by timbers, so that 
it cannot fall into the winze. This level is 
very much like the one we have just left, only 
not quite as long. 

Hark! there was a cry of "fire!" Don't 
be alarmed. It only means they are about to 
fire a shot. Step this way. Now shield your 
candle well with your hand, and stand still. 
There it went; and your candle is out. What 
a dull, heavy report! and how it shook the 
air! 

We have now been through half a dozen 
drifts, climbed down as many winzes, crawled 
on our hands and knees through abandoned 
stopes ; have clambered up and down ropes in 
lieu of ladders ; have seen the ore-vein wide 
and narrow, rich and poor, and in many places 
have seen no ore at all, where by good rights 
ore should have been. Your clothes are wet, 
muddy, and covered with candle-droppings. 
Your face and hands are not much cleaner. 
In fact, you are a sorry-looking object, and are 
pretty well tired, too. But we have only to 
go to the bottom of the shaft, now, to retire 
with honor. 

The shaft is about a hundred feet deeper 
than the drift in which we stand. Listen, and 
you can hear the faint click of the hammer 
down there, and by leaning over here you can 
see the candles, looking like so many glow- 
worms. 



SILVER MINING, 



179 




Working a Mine. 



This is as far as the ladders go, and for the 
next twenty feet we must climb down this rope. 
Before going down, however, let us take a good 
look at the miners. They are dressed in oil- 
cloth suits, and well they may be, for the water 
is pouring down the sides of the shaft at the 
rate of three or four barrels an hour, and 
reaches them in the form of fine spray, with 
here and there a tiny stream, which runs off 
some projecting point of rock. The water is 
raised by the bucket to this tank, where we 
are standing, and from where the pump takes 
it. The miners seem contented enough, 
though, and the one sitting down turning the 
drill is singing as merrily as though this wet, 
muddy shaft was the pleasantest place in the 
world. This is their life; they are used to it, 
and know nothing else; for ever since they 
were old enough to do anything, they have 
worked around a mine, first at sorting ore, and 



gradually working their way from that to 
drillsmen. Let us speak to them. 

" Well, Harrv, how is the rock to-day?" 

" It's bloody 'ard, sir. We uns can't make 
'alf a foot a shift, sir," is the reply we get. 

Cornish, unmistakably. Well, down we go. 
Hold fast to 3'our candle, and the rope, too. 
You will find the latter wet and slippery; but 
you are down safely. Here is the ore-vein 
running lengthwise of the shaft, you see, and 
looking well, too. Hold your candle close to 
that little hole, there in the crevice; see, it is 
lined with quartz crystals, which glisten like 
diamonds in the light. The miners call such 
cavities " vuggs," and they are often quite 
large and very pretty. Sometimes native sil- 
ver occurs among the crystals, in the shape 
of fine wire. 

Our clothes are not water-proof, however, 
and we are getting quite wet. " So, Harry, 



I So 



SILVER MINING. 



you can ring for the bucket." How deep are 
■we? About six hundred feet. The shaft is 
not quite straight enough for us to see day- 
light from where we stand. Do they work 
in the mines at night? Yes, night and day. 
As soon as the day hands have worked out 
their time, another set of miners take their 
place. 

Do accidents ever happen — did you ask? 
Occasionally. The men sometimes get blown 
up by a blast; sometimes they are thrown from 
the bucket while going up and down the shaft; 
and sometimes a rock falls upon them from 
above. But in a well-regulated mine such ac- 
cidents seldom occur. There is much more 
danger in a coal mine than in one of the kind 
we are in. 

But here is the bucket. Some mines have 
" cages " instead of the ordinary bucket, which 
work on a principle quite similar to the "ele- 



vators " you have seen in large hotels. But 
we shall have to content, our.-elves with a com- 
mon bucket; so step in with both feet. I will 
keep one foot out to steer with. Hold your 
head close to the rope. — Harry, give the bell 
four strokes, so the engineer may know he 
has live freight on board instead of rock. — 
Here we go. — Harry, steady the bucket until 
it reaches the planks. — Now we are all right. 
It seems a little strange at first, but you will 
soon get used to it. There, you can see the 
light far above us, and gradually it grows 
lighter around us. See those heads peering 
out of the drift, looking like so many gnomes, 
those favorites with the German story-tellers, 
you remember. 

Drifts, stopes, stulls, and gnomes are far 
below us, and here we are in daylight once 
more, a little tired, and decidedly muddy, but, 
I trust, repaid for our trouble. 




A LONDON FIREMAN'S "NIGHT OF IT.' 



i8i 




The Fire Escape. 



A LONDOIT PIREMAFS "NIGHT OP IT." 

BY R. M. BALLANTYNE. 

npOM BRANDERS had broad shoulders 
-^ and tough sinews, blue eyes and a bright, 
bold face. 

The most dignified of men may sometimes 
become ridiculous. No one who had seen 
Tom Branders, for the first time, on the night 
of the 2oth December, i8 — , could have believed 
it possible that he was regarded by his com- 
rades as one of the most sedate, grave, manly, 
earnest fellows in the Brigade ; for, on the 
night in question, he sat in his sentry-box, the 
absolute impersonation of idiotic imbecility. 

The fact is, that Tom had been overcome by 
sleep. Prolonged watching had at length in- 
duced a condition of mind which seemed to ren- 
der " appearances " a matter of supreme indif- 
ference. His cap had tumbled with a reckless 
air over one eye ; his curly forelock had strag- 
gled over the bridge of his nose; his broad 
shoulders stooped to an extent that suggested 
the snapping of the spine ; his well-shaped head 
swayed about as if in wavering uncertainty as 
to whether it would bump the back, or sides, or 
front of the sentry-box, and his firm lips broke 
occasionally into a remonstrative smile when 



an imusually violent bump half awoke him, and 
sent an echo, as if from a giant drum, through 
the silent street. 

Although occupying a sentry-box, Tom 
Branders was not a defender of his country; 
although a brass helmet hung from a peg just 
over his head, he was not a member of the 
horse-guards ; although clad in a blue uniform, 
with a broad belt and a big, piratical buckle, 
he was not one of the marines, albeit the 
round, sailor's cap on his head did smack 
somewhat of the sea. Nevertheless, Tom was 
truly a warrior — in an enemy's country, too, 
surrounded by the foe night and day, and 
liable at any and every moment to be ordered 
into action. He was a member of the London 
Fire Brigade, and, at the time we write of, was 
doing duty as guardian of a fire escape. 

It is only of late years that the London fire- 
men have had charge of the fire-escapes. In 
former times these were ably managed by a 
society supported by voluntary contributions. 
Now they are under government, and the reg- 
ular firemen take their turn of duty at them 
night about. 

The great city was in its deepest condition 
of repose, for it was a little after three A. M., 
at which hour late revellers had staggered to 
their respective liomes, and early risers were 



i83 



A LONDON FIREMAN'S NIGHT OF IT. 



not yet stirring. The profound silence of 
busy Paddington was broken only by the oc- 
casional heel of a policeman and the inter- 
mittent drumming of Tom Branders's head 
before referred to. Presently there was added 
to these sounds the quick pattering of youth- 
ful footsteps, and ere long a very small and 
ragged urchin came trotting along, with his 
hands deep in his trousers pockets, and with 
that jovially reckless air that characterizes 
most of the London street-boys. He appeared 
to be in a hurry: nevertheless, endued with 
that wonderful capacity which is usually sup- 
posed to belong exclusively to great minds, 
he found time, in the midst of his more press- 
ing engagements, to devote much of his at- 
tention to every small matter or trivial incident 
that cropped up in his path. In virtue of this 
capacity he saluted the policeman by the fa- 
miliar name of " Bobby," asked several of 
them how they fared in regard to soap, gave 
them a good deal of gratuitous advice, and 
took a lively farewell by applying his thumb 
to his nose and wriggling his fingers — always, 
however, sheering off into the middle of the 
road, from prudential motives. Having rec- 
ommended a neighboring weathercock to crow, 
if that would afford any relief to its elevated 
spirit, and having whistled in at a keyhole, in 
the earnest hOpe that the act might suggest 
dreams of burglary to those within, our play- 
ful urchin came suddenly round the corner 
of the church under the shadow of which stood 
the fire-escape of that district. 

Standing beside the huge wheels, and look- 
ing up at the tall ladders with a critical air, 
he was about to apostrophize the machine, 
when a drum-like noise proceeded from the 
neighboring sentry-box. An expression of 
beaming glee overspread the urchin's features 
instantlj'. He went on tiptoe to the front of 
the sentry-box, opened the door gently, and 
stood there gazing with intense delight at 
Tom Branders's waving head and idiotic smiles. 

An occasional squeaking sound, which pro- 
ceeded from the boy's nose, gave indication of 
internal convulsions, and a mischievous twinkle 
in his eye showed that he meant to " improve 
the occasion ; " but the rush of cold air through 
the open door awoke the fireman with a start. 
Becoming instantly conscious of the grinning 
boy, he sprang upon him with a growl ; but 
the small creature eluded his grasp, and fled 
away with a yell of laughter, in the midst of 
which he was plainly heard to ask the dis- 
turbed fireman if his mother was aware of his 
absence from home. 

Tom Branders listened to his retreating 



footsteps with a good-humored smile on his 
face, — for he had a sort of undercurrent of 
affection for the entire class of street-boys, — 
and then turned, sailor-like, to observe the 
weather as indicated by the sky. We say sail- 
or-like advisedly, because Tom had been a 
man-of-war's-man. All the men of the Lon- 
don Fire Brigade are picked young men from 
the navy, the training undergone in that force 
being found pre-eminently suitable for the pro- 
duction of good firemen. 

Having surveyed the horizon as far as the 
chimney-pots would allow him, Tom consulted 
his watch, examined his escape, looked up and 
down the street, and then, gazing at the moon, 
slowly shook his head. 




In the Sentry-Box. 

There was an air of anxiety and sadness 
about the man's expression which appeared 
somewhat inconsistent with his strength and 
high health and somewhat wild calling. After 
gazing thoughtfully upwards for a few minutes, 
he began to walk briskly up and down, the 
night air being keen and frosty. 

He had not walked long when a woman 
came quickly round the corner of the church. 

"Molly!" exclaimed the fireman, turning 
suddenly round with a look of surprise, '■^ yoti 
here? " 

" I could not help it, Tom. Our darling is 
worse, much worse. I think she is sinking." 

She laid her head on her husband's breast 
and sobbed. 



A LONDON FIREMAN'S "NIGHT OF IT." 



183 



*' Come, Molly, don't give way like that," 
said the fireman, in soothing tones, strok- 
ing the woman's hair with his hand. 

" O, it is so hard! "she exclaimed, with a 
touch of bitterness, ''to have our first, our 
only one, our darling Alice, taken away so 
soon." 

" Molly, Molly," said the man, tenderly. 
" the Lord gave, an' if it be his will to — " 

He could not finish the sentence. With a 
strong eff"ort he crushed down his feelings. 

"Has thedoctor been to see her.?" he asked, 
after a pause. 




The Rescue. 



"Yes. He said that if she could only fall 
asleep, she might get the turn; but she has 
been restless ever since he gave her the draught, 
and I came out to tell you. Surely, Tom, it 
will be no sin to leave your post just for f ve 
or ten minutes, to see her before she d'es I " 

"Impossible, Marj-, impossible," said the 
man, almost sternly. 

" Can a short ten minutes be of such im- 
portance?" said Mary. "Many and many a 
night you have stood here without having a 
call. Is it likely there will be a call to-night, 
within that short space of time.?" 

" There maybe; but, whether or not, Molly, 
my duty is //ere. Life and death sometimes 



hinge on my being prompt. If by going home 
I could save the life of our darling, I might be 
tempted; but — " 

'•Well, I can't wait to talk," sobbed Mary, 
drawing her shawl round her with a shudder, 
" Our neighbor, Mrs. Davids, has kindly taken 
care of her while I came out to see you. I — 
Hush! What is that?" 

Shouts and a sound as if of hurrying feet 
were heard. 

The fireman made no answer, except by giv- 
ing Molly one fervent embrace. Next moment 
he had struck a light and kindled the two lamps 
of his escape. The hurrying^ footsteps drew 
near, and the shouts sounded like the word 
"Fire!" 

Tom Branders had flung his cap into the 
sentry-box, and donned his brass helmet before 
the first of the runners came round the corner 
of the church in the shape of a small boy — 
the same small boy who had passed the place 
not many minutes before. His eyes were al- 
most starting out of his head with real excite- 
ment and anxiety, as he yelled, " Fire, fire! " 
vociferously. 

"Just so, my tulip," said Tom, calmly, as 
he thrust a small hatchet into his belt. 

Tom's actions were marked by a wonderful 
degree of celerity, while his countenance wore 
an expression of unruflled serenity, like an 
expert pugilist, who hits out like lightning, 
while he smiles like an eas'y-going Cupid. 

" Look sharp, fireman ! " cried a policeman, 
as he dashed round the corner at full speed. 

" All right, Robert," exclaimed Tom, seizing 
the levers of his escape. "Now, then, lend a 
hand — will you?" 

This was addressed to four men, who came 
up at the same moment. These, with the 
policeman, willingly lent their aid, and, in 
much less time than the account of it has taken 
to write, the fire-escape was going at full speed 
to the scene of one of those conflagrations of 
which there is an average of five a night 
throughout the year in London. 

Fire-escapes are studded so thickly through- 
out London that there is always sure to be 
one in readiness within a few minutes' call of 
any spot where a fire may occur. Our hero, 
therefore, soon reached the place where his 
services were in demand. 

Frequently an escape reaches a fire a few 
minutes sooner than do the fire-engines, ow- 
ing to its nearer proximity; and the man in 
charge is provided with a hand-pump, so that, 
in the event of there being no one to be res- 
cued from the windows, he may begin to check 
the fire at once. At the commencement of a 
fire a small stream of water may be sufficient 



1 84 



A LONDON FIREMAN'S NIGHT OF IT. 



to quell it, although five or ten minutes later 
a mountain torrent would have little or no 
effect on it. Hence fii-e-escape men are often 
the means of stemming the tide of what, but 
for their energy, would have become a great 
conflagration. But it was not so on the pres- 
ent occasion. The fire had broken out from 
the first with irresistible fury, in a dry-salter's 
store, so that, when the escape was run up, 
sheets of flame and volumes of smoke were 
already pouring out of the lower windows. 

"No use for the hand-pump here," muttered 
Tom Branders, as he pushed vigorouslj' through 
the crowd, which was fast collecting. 

That there was use for the escape, however, 
was evident from the shrieks that were heard 
issuing from the numerous windows directly 
above the burning store. 

It was a somewhat poor neighborhood, and 
the rooms above the store were densely in- 
habited by people in indigent circumstances. 
Most of these had escaped down a back stair, 
and were now in front of the house uttering 
frantic cries for " help," and " ladders ; " stat- 
ing, in wild, incoherent sentences, that children 
or parents were still in various parts of the 
threatened building. Some of them, after 
escaping, had run back to attempt the rescue 
of relatives; but in an incredibly short time 
the back and front stairs were both rendered 
impassable by the fire. 

Tom Branders at once unshipped his short 
ladders, and planted them at two of the lower 
windows, where a man and two women were 
seen in the midst of suffocating smoke, wildly 
flinging about their arms, and shouting for 
help. These he left to the care of the police- 
man and one or two of the more daring in- 
habitants of the neighborhood, who soon res- 
cued them. Meanwhile he ran the escape 
towards an upper window of the tenement, 
where a woman was seen with a child in her 
arms. 

The head of the escape just reached the 
window. With the activity of a cat, Tom ran 
up the ladder and seized the woman, who was 
making frantic but not very successful efforts 
to scramble out of the window with the child 
in her arms. At the same moment there was 
a loud shout from the crowd, and a stentorian 
voice directed the fireman to the windows of 
the floor above. Just then a suffocating cloud 
of smoke well nigh choked our hero, and im- 
mediately after a sheet of flame shot lap through 
the floor and wrapped round his legs, while the 
din around him was rendered more bewil- 
dering by the furious rattle and roar caused 
by the advent of two fire-engines, which gal- 
loped up to the scene of action. 



There was not a moment to lose. The wo- 
man was too excited to act. Tom, therefore, 
seized her and the child in his strong arms, 
plunged headforemost into the long canvas 
bag, or shoot, which hung underneath the 
ladder, and slid in safety to the ground, press- 
ing his outspread knees against the sides of 
the shoot, to regulate the speed of his descent. 
Jumping up, and leaving the Avoman and child 
to be cared for by others, he seized the side- 
ropes ofthe levers, by means of which the flying- 
ladder was raised so as to reach upper floors. 

"Lend a hand here, lads!" he cried, 
sharply. 




The London Boy. 

Men of his own brigade were now ready to- 
answer the call, each a thorough adept in the 
management of fire-escapes. Leaving to them 
the work of hauling on the levers, he sprang 
up and gained the fly-ladder almost before it 
was pitched. It touched the window-sill where 
the man was screaming; but the smoke, burst- 
ing out in a dense cloud just then, prevented 
him from seeing what was being done. Chok- 
ing, and in a fit of desperation, he leaped from 
the window. Tom was within six feet of him 
at the moment, and saw him leap. Clutching 
the ladder with one hand, he leaned back and: 
received the falling man on his broad chest. 
The stout machine quivered under the shock, 
and strain, but did not give way. Seeing that 
the man was able at least to hold on, Tom. 
whispered a word of encouragement, scram- 



A LONDON FIREMAN'S "NIGHT OF IT.' 



185 



bled past him, and leaped through the window 
into the room. Here all was darkness, owing 
to smoke; but Tom was accustomed to smoke^ 
and knew exactly how far he was able to stand 
partial suffocation. 

There is a saying that " knowledge is pow- 
er." The saying was verified by Tom Branders 
on this occasion. His thorough knowledge, 
founded on training and experience, gave him 
the power to keep cool and act, where braver 
men — if such could be — might, in their ig- 
norance, have quailed. He sprang across the 
apartment, and tumbled over an elderly man, 
who had just fallen down in his blind haste 
to reach the window. 




Alice is alive. 

Tom raised him quickly, bore him to the 
ladder, and was carrying him down on his 
shoulder, when he began to struggle, and 
gasped, — 

" Save, O, save my child — my Alice ! " 

" Can 3'ou hold on.?" cried Tom, setting his 
burden against the ladder. 

" Yes, O, yes ; don't mind me. Alice, Alice ! 
Quick ! The attic above the room where you 
found me ! " 

The fireman needed no second bidding. 
Leaping once more up the ladder, and know- 
ing well that his comrades would look after 
the man who clung to it, he dashed across the 
room, found a door, burst it open, leaped up a 
narrow wooden staircase, and felt for the door 



of the attic, but could not find it. All round 
him was black as midnight, and he felt that 
a few moments more of such smoke must over- 
power him. The thought of his own sick, 
dying child came vividly to his mind ; and the 
knowledge that one who bore the same name 
must perish in a few minutes if he did not 
succeed in rescuing her, drove him frantic. He 
di-ew his hatchet, and was about to make an 
insane attempt to cut through the wall, when 
he observed a small skylight in the low roof, 
against which the comb of his helmet had al- 
ready struck once or twice. 

To dash this into atoms was the work of a 
few seconds. Regular drill-practice in the 
g3'mnasium of the brigade had rendered it an 
easy matter for him to haul himself up through 
the hole and get out on the roof. Here the 
fresh air revived him, and here he found a 
window leading into the attic. One thrust 
with his foot dashed in the whole frame, and 
he leaped through, followed by a wild cheer 
from the crowd below, who had caught sight 
of him in his giddy position on the edge of the 
roof, surrounded by smoke and lurid firelight. 
But it was not a giddy position to Tom. Many 
a time, during wild storms, had he laid out to 
reef the topsails of a man-of-war; and often 
had he stood on the main truck, in calm weath- 
er, " for fun." Thus was he trained to attempt 
deeds of daring on better grounds than "fun." 
Tom was rejoiced to find the attic compara- 
tively free from smoke, though tiny wreaths 
rising from seams in the floor showed that it 
would not long remain a place of safety. In 
a low truckle-bed lay a little gii-1, ruddy with 
the hue of health, and sound asleep, despite 
the noise around her. The crash caused by 
his leaping on the floor, however, awoke her 
with a start, and she uttered a wild scream of 
terror as the fireman's huge, dark form met 
her gaze. The scream was redoubled when 
Tom seized her in his strong arms and lifted 
her, blanket and all, out of bed. There was 
no time for ceremony or delay. 

" Alice, dear," said the fireman, in a tone as 
soothing as was compatible with his violent 
and swift action, " don't fear; you're all safe. 
Father's below." 

But Alice was deaf to all blandishment. She 
continued to yell and kick in abject terror, 
while her deliverer bore her out on the roof, 
walked slowly along the narrow ledge, where 
the loosening of a single brick, or the loss of 
balance hy a hair's breadth, would have pitched 
them headlong on the stones below. Still 
screaming and kicking, she was borne down 
the skylight; but, while traversing the pas- 
sage and the attic stair, and the lower room 



i86 



A LONDON FIREMAN'S NIGHT OF IT. 



to the window, she was silent, being nearly 
choked. A few seconds later and they were 
upon the fly-ladder, and the blanket was 
drawn tight over the child's head, for, during 
the descent, tongues of fire as well as clouds 
of smoke swept around them. Gaining the 
top of the lower ladder, Tom plunged head- 
foremost into the canvas shoot, and, guiding 
himself, as before, by his knees, reached the 
ground in safety amidst enthusiastic cheers. 

In the midst of the congratulations that 
were showered on him, and the natural feelings 
of thankfulness and exultation that swelled 
his breast, Tom heard words that stemmed 
the tide of gladness, and sent a chill to his 
heart. 

" Cheer up, man ; rouse yourself ; the child 
is safe. Your Alice is alive and well ! " 

The father, overcome by exhaustion and 
terror, had swooned ; but these words charmed 
his spirit back. 

" Alive and well ! " he cried, raising himself 
and looking round wildly; then, as the little 
one rushed into his arms, "Thank the Lord, 
Alice is alive ! " 

" God help me ! " thought poor Tom Bran- 
ders ; " my Alice is ill, perhaps dead ! " 

"Not much hurt, Tom, I hope," said the 
foreman of the brigade in that district, coming 
forward and glancing earnestly at our hero's 
singed head, blackened visage, and bloody 
hands. " Here, one of you, fetch a glass of 
spirits ! " 

" I'm all right, sir. No, no spirits, thankee. 
I don't need 'em. I'm only scratched a bit 
with the broken glass." 

" Well, get home as fast as you can. You've 
done enough to-night, Tom. We'll manage 
the rest without you. There are no more to 
be saved now; or, if there are, it's too late. 
And we're getting it under." 

As he spoke, the truth of what he said was 
confirmed by the flames bursting upwards 
with a terrific glare, and the roof of the build- 
ing falling in with a crash that sent mj'riads 
of sparks into the wintry skj'. 

Tom, therefore, glad to be relieved, started 
off at a brisk pace for his home, which was 
not more than twenty minutes' walk from the 
spot. 

At the outskirts of the crowd he observed 
that a small, ragged boy ran by his side, about 
a pace behind him, and appeared desirous of 
attracting his attention. 

" What d'ye want, lad } " he demanded, some- 
what sternly, as he stopped. 

"Please, sir," said the boy, in a somewhat 
hesitating tone, " I'm sorry I did it." 

" Sorry you did what.^" asked Tom. 



" That I — that I said that w'en you was in 
the sentry-box." 

" Said what.? I don't understand J'ou." 

" Axed you if — if your mother knowed you 
was hout." 

Torn burst into a hearty fit of laughter; for, 
although he had suspected, for an instant, 
that the urchin was chaffing him, a second 
glance at his flushed face and eager gaze con- 
vinced him that he was in earnest. 

"Well, is that all you've got to say.?" he 
asked. 

" That's all," replied the boy, with a grin. 

"You're a queer lot, and I'd like to have a 
chat with ee, but haven't got time just now. 
Will you be passin' this wayTooseday next in 
the evenin'.? " 

"Yes." 

"Just give a call at my box — will you.? I'll 
be on dooty there again that night." 

"I will," said the boy, decidedly. 

The fireman shook the urchin's dirty little 
hand, and so they parted. 

It was still dark when Tom Branders turned 
the corner of his own little street and knocked 
softly at the door of his dwelling. Not so 
knocked his heart against his heaving breast, 
when Mary lifted the latch and let him in. 

" I'm glad you are late," said his wife. 

" Why so.?" asked Tom, in some anxiety. 

" Because our darling has been sleeping 
sweetly for three hours, and still sleeps. The 
doctor has been here again, and says that she 
has got the turn, and we have every reason to 
hope that she will recover." 

The fireman's first impulse was to exclaim, 
in the words of the father to whose heart he 
had so recently brought gladness, " Thank 
the Lord, Alice is alive!" Then, sitting by 
the bedside of his slumbering child, he related 
to his wife, in whispered sentences, how that 
a great fire had broken out, and many lives 
had been in jeopardy, and another Alice 
would probably have been among the dead at 
that hour, and another father would have been 
in deepest woe, if he had forsaken his post 
that night even for the brief space of quarter 
of an hour I 

To dress the slight cuts in his hands, and 
remove the traces of his recent battle with the 
flames, w.is a work that occupied the fireman 
but a short space of time. Thereafter he kissed 
his sleeping child, flung himself, half dressed, 
upon his bed, and in two minutes was sound 
asleep, with his coat, cap, belt, boots, and 
breeches laid handy on a chair, to be ready at 
a moment's notice for another " call; " for the 
London fireman's warfare is perpetual, and hi* 
vigils never enc' 



SARDINES 



187 




SARDINES. 

WHERE THEY COME FROM, AND HOW 
THEY ARE CAUGHT. 

BY GEORGE M. TOWLE.' 

HAVE you never wondered, as at the home 
tea-table you partook of the delicate, 
shiny little fish which come in such tight, 
hard-to-get-open boxes, packed in such tempt- 
ing little layers, and, when once extricated 
from their air-tight prisons, so deliciously 
tasting, • — have you never wondered how they 
are caught, and by what means they are so 
skilfully preserved? How came they by their 
name, which reminds you of an interesting 
island in the Mediterranean, and of a snug 
little kingdom under the Alps, where Victor 
Emmanuel used to reign in modest state be- 
fore he was called upon to sit upon the throne 
of united Italy at Rome? And how can such 
little fish be caught? and what makes them so 
much more delicate than the smelt and min- 
nows which we fish out of the harbor and the 
little rustic streams? 

I am going to tell you about an interesting 
excursion I once made to the very spot where 
almost, if not quite, all the sardines we get in 
America are gathered out of the sea. It was 



not in the Mediterranean, as you might sup- 
pose ; for, although sardines are so called be- 
cause they were originall}' found in glistening 
shoals round about the Sardinian Island, but 
few are now taken in that beautiful southern 
sea. The great sardine trade is supplied from 
the coasts of the Bay of Biscay, where, you, 
no doubt, have heard, the storms rage with 
unusual violence, whose waters are often 
strewed with wrecks, and which lashes the 
shores of France with a sort of spiteful fury, 
as if it were a very greedy sea, and wanted 
more elbow-room. Starting from Paris at five 
in the evening, it took me all night to cross 
France, going westward ; and in the morning 
I found myself at Nantes, a quaint, tumble- 
down old cit}', where the houses seemed tipsy, 
and the streets crazy, the capital of ancient 
Brittany. Here, you may remember, in the 
old, round-towered castle, which they now use 
as a barracks, the good Henry of Navarre 
signed the famous Edict of Nantes, which 
gave a little freedom and breathing-time to 
the poor, persecuted Protestants of France. 
But I did not remain there long, though it was 
interesting to wander about the musty old 
squares, and linger in the lofty, age-worn 
cathedral. A further railway journey along 
the banks of the wide, rapid, and island- 



i88 



SARDINES. 



studded Loire brought me to the coast. A 
queer coast it was, bordered here with long, 
flat marshes, reaching on one side as far as eye 
could reach; there with big, jagged, eccentric 
rocks, some of which seemed on the point of 
throwing their next-door rock-neighbor into 
the sea, and others lay over on their sides, as 
if they were tired of resisting the waters, and 
were at last yielding to the persistent castiga- 
tion of the waves. It was about the first of 
June — the fishing season, as th? Mew Eng- 
land boys very well know, almost everywhere. 
Had I been at home, I should have been, on 
that same first of June, buried in the depths 
of the New Hampshire hills, following trout 
streams up the cool woods, being bitten now 




At Nantes. 

and then, doubtless, by mosquitos, but so 
rapt in circumventing the sly little wretches 
in the brook as to let them bite without a 
struggle. Here I was, however, far off on the 
west coast of France, surrounded by a num- 
ber of rough old fishermen with faces that 
looked like leather, blue frocks, big, wooden 
shoes, and speaking a language which not 
even my Parisian chum, who came with me, 
could comprehend, and which I consequently 
did not try to unravel. They were big, brown 
fellows, with rough voices, like a trombone 
with a very bad cold, but good-natured withal, 
and ate their breakfast of cold buckwheat 
cakes, sour bread, and more sour wine, with 
as much gusto as you and I do a nice Ameri- 
can dinner at home. 



All along that queer-looking coast — which, 
I observed, everywhere had exactly the ap- 
pearance of having been for centuries the 
battle-ground of water against earth, waves 
against rocks — ;they were fishing for sardines. 
The extent of sea over which the fishing goes 
on comprises many miles, extending from 
Morbihan to La Vendee; the best quality, ac- 
cording to the fishermen's traditions, is to be 
found opposite a picturesque little seaport in 
the south, called Les Sables d'Olonnes. Myri- 
ads of these beautiful little fishes begin to 
swarm up the coast, in shoals of some thirty 
feet wide, early in the spring. Go out a mile 
or so from the shore in one of the old, flat, 
lumbering fishermen's boats,' at this time of 
year, and you will see these shoals floating 
not far from the surface, and glittering like an 
infinite number of little aqueous prisms. The 
little shiners are countless, and wiggle along 
close together, packed almost as tightly as 
they are destined soon to be in those extremely 
obstinate boxes, and move in so solid a mass 
that, unless you look verj' intently,, you may 
imagine them to comprise but one big, glis- 
tening, many-colored sea monster. When they 
are young, they are, like human children, in- 
nocent and confiding, and fearing nothing, 
keep pretty close to the shore, and even at 
times run in shoals up the bays and inlets. 
As they grow bigger, however, which they do 
very fast as the summer advances, they begin 
to get suspicious, and more shy of the shore, 
and when they have become quite mature, 
cannot be induced to approach nearer than 
nine or ten miles from man's earthly habita- 
tion. The sardines are very tender little fel- 
lows; they are as sensitive to raw and squally 
weather as an elderly lady with weak lungs. 
When it is warm and the sun shines bright, 
in what countless shoals do they dot the wa- 
ters ! But let a chilly breeze come up, and 
the heavens become leaden, and you may 
scour the sea far and near, to catch sight of 
one of them, in vain. 

We get into one of the squat, ugly boats, 
with its queer, flat oars, and its rough and 
rather too leaky bottom, and push off" from the 
rocks. There are with us four stout Breton 
fishermen, in coarse caps and blouses, and a 
pudgy Breton boy, with a big moon face and 
rather dull eyes, bronzed brown with a con- 
stant exposure to the sun. He is bareheaded, 
and his hair is the color of decayed tow. We 
are provided with several closely-woven nets, 
and in one corner of the boat is a tub full of 
cod roe. Cod roe is the bait wherewith the 
tender shiners are lured from their native ele- 




iiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiniiiinniin 






SARDINES. 



ipj 




Dropping the Net. 



ment. The roe and milt of ling fish are also 
much used. This roe is imported, at consider- 
able cost, from Norway, and might be from 
the United States if our merchants and the 
Bretons knew it. Often the fishermen have to 
pay between twenty and thirty dollars in gold 
per barrel for it, and they require some $400,000 
worth of it every fishing season. Each boat 
consumes yearly seventeen barrels of it. Some- 
times the fishermen mix with the roe a kind 
of shrimps, native to their coast, which are 
collected by odd old women in the salt marsh- 
es round about, and sold to the fishermen. 
These old women are called ^'chevrei/ieres,'^ 
which might be translated in our American 
slang as " shrimpists." The fishermen say 
that these shrimps are only of use to disturb 
the water, for the sardines do not take to them 
as bait. When we have got out, by dint of 
persistent pulling, jerking, and bouncing, some 
three leagues from the shore, and, looking 
back, can see the coast of stormy old Biscay 
stretching dim and jagged for miles up and 
down, our chief fisherman, who uses his au- 
thority with sober sternness, and speaks very 
little, gives orders to stop rowing; and pres- 
ently we see why, for now the shoals of sar- 
dines begin to glisten all around in the water, 
four or five feet below the surface, and the 
fishing is about to begin. Slowly and care- 
fully the mesh is unwrapped, stretched out, 
and held over the boat's side. Here comes a 
shoal of fine, fat little fellows, wiggling co- 
quettishlyalong, andquiteunsuspiciousoftheir 
danger. The net is quickly and silently slid 
right down among them, not horizontally or 
slantingly, but perpendicularly, so that it 
floats like a little wall of thread. Then, in an 
instant, captain plunges his hand in the roe, 
crushes it out of lumps into bits, and scatters 
it thick and fast as near to the mesh as he can. 
The countless sardines rush for it headlong, 
and rush and jostle each other, and are so in- 
tent on the roe that, before they know it, 



thousands of them are hopelessly entangled 
in the meshes, and stick there struggling. 
There are still multitudes left after the net is 
completely dotted with the poor, captive little 
creatures. The net is pulled up, another fresh 
net instantly inserted in its place, which gath- 
ers a harvest as plentiful as the preceding one. 
More roe is thrown out, and trickles fast down 
through the green waters; and thus again 
and again the nets are thrown and drawn in, 
laden heavy with their fishy burden. 

Observe that the sardines are not bagged 
in the nets, — as most fish caught with nets 
are, — but are caught in the meshes, and hang 
helplessly entangled in them, in a hopeless 
though desperate struggle to set themselves 
free. And now the inside of the flat-bottomed 
boat is swarming with the shining, writhing 
mass; but they soon cease to writhe; for our 
remorseless captain proceeds to sprinkle salt 
over them, right and left. The reason of this 
is, that the sardine is the frailest and most 
delicate fish that swims. After he has been 
out of water an hour, he begins to decay, and 
the salt is sprinkled over him to preserve him 
temporarily until there is time to put him upon 
the market for sale, or till he can be consigned 
to the factories for permanent preservation. 
But they are not so much salted when thus 
taken out of their native element but that they 
are mighty pleasant to the palate even of 
him who does not like salt fish. In the Breton 
towns and cities fresh sardines are a very fa- 
vorite, because cheap and delicious, article of 
food. Should you spend a night in one of 
them at about the period when the fishing is 
going on, you would be startled from your 
slumbers by a very queer, shrill, long-drawn- 
out cry under your windows. Should you 
summon courage, and have the curiosity, to 
jump out of bed and go to j'our window, yoii 
would see a great, brawny, leather-colored 
peasant woman passing along the street, clat- 
tering noisily with her big wooden shoes, and 



192 



SARDINES, 



you would discern upon her head a long, flat 
basket full of sardines. These she sells from 
door to door, going her rounds early enough to 
provide her fare for the. breakfast-tables ; she 
sells them for a cent or two each, though if 
she perceives you to be " Anglais " or " Ameri- 
cain," she will try to get double the ordinary 
price out of you. These sardines are only a 
very trifle salt : get your landlady to fry them 
in the peculiar Breton fashion, and you will 
have a most delicious, delicate, savory break- 
fast of them, fit for a king, and such a break- 
fast, indeed, as kings themselves would only 
obtain by going where the sardines are ; the 
mountain must come to Mohammed. They 
are, prepared in this way, the sweetest, and 




Sardine Vender. 

tenderest, and juiciest of all the finny tribe. 
But, of course, by far the larger portion of the 
sardines are sold by the fishermen to the fac- 
tories for preserving and sending them abroad. 
There are very many of these factories all 
along the Breton coast, and there is a lively 
competition among them to secure the freshest 
and healthiest fish. So it is captain's great 
ambition, having duly got in and salted down 
his harvest, to hurry off" and dispose of it be- 
foi-e his rivals, who may be seen dotting the 
waters at irregular distances for miles around, 
have a chance to anticipate him. We are 
therefore in a great hurry in our return voyage 
shoreward. Captai,n is anxious, and rips out 
savage, though to us quite incomprehensible, 
Breton oaths at the other men for not rowing 
more stoutly and steadily. He peers nervously 



on this side and that, to see if Pierre or Jacques 
is not making land before him. To be sure, 
there is Jacques, frantically gesticulating, as he 
stands in the stem of his boat, and very 
nearly on a line with us, at sight of which 
captain grows more nervous and profane than 
ever, — my Parisian friend thinks he is sum- 
moning ten thousand imps or so to his aid, — 
and we lurch, and jerk, and crash so, that it 
seems as if every moment we were about to 
dump the whole of our precious load into the 
boiling waters of Biscay. At last, however, 
we make land in safety. Captain and his men 
carefully gather up the sardines in rude tubs 
and barrels ; a little wagon is at hand, with a 
most solemn-faced little donkey saddled to it; 
and before we have had more than time to ob- 
serve that Jacques also is at his landing, and is 
going through similar exertions, off" rattles cap- 
tain to the little town whose single topsy-turvy 
spire just peeps above a cliff" half a mile away. 
We folio// him as we can, for our legs are 
somewhat stiff from being so long cramped in 
the boat, and the shore is jagged and rocky, 
and difficult to creep along. 

Arrived at the " confiserie," as the preserving 
establishment is called, we find that the canny 
captain has already made his bargain with a 
sleek-looking man, in the office near the door, 
who is counting out some silver to him. Cap- 
tain looks beaming, and hands a ten-sous piece 
to each of his men, who rush off to treat 
themselves, and, turning to us, tells us that 
he has secured six francs (a dollar and a 
quarter) per thousand for his boat-load. As 
the load counted between four and five thou- 
sand, it was a very successful day — for the 
average of a summer's work to each man is 
not over about two hundred dollars. They, 
like our summer-resort hotels, have to make 
hay while the sun shines. 

The proprietors of the " confiserie " lose no 
time in submitting their acquisition to the 
processes for preserving them. As we pass 
through the rooms nearest the office, we ob- 
serve piles of glistening tin boxes, of many 
sizes, neatly stowed on long shelves, ready to 
receive their contents now preparing for them 
farther on. The first thing that is done to 
the fish is to wash and scrape them with great 
care; and this is done in a long room pro- 
vided with sinks for the purpose, by a number 
of strong, lusty-looking peasant women, who 
wear long linen caps, which extend out hori- 
zontally at the back of their heads, and have 
metal chains around their necks. These women 
wash and clean the sardines with great rapid- 
ity, and take care that they are quite free fronj 



SARDINES, 



193 



the sand and weeds which cling to tnem. The 
heads and gills are then quickly and skilfully 
cut off with long, sharp, narrow-bladed knives, 
and the bodies are then lightly sprinkled with 
fine salt, which crystallizes on the surface, and 
is afterwards scraped off and given as a per- 
quisite to the women. Having been thus duly 
washed and salted, they are laid out to dry 
upon wire or willow frames : this is done in fine 
weather on the roofs; and sardines are much 
nicer if thus dried in the sun. But there is 
a long, slightly heated i^oom where they are 
dried in case it is damp or rainy — as it very 
often is in inclement Brittany — out of doors. 
When they are thoroughly' stiff and dry, they 
are thrown into caldrons of boiling oil, situ- 




Cleaning Sardines. 

ated^'n the cellars, and here they are left seeth- 
ing and sputtering for some two hours. Once 
more, on having been thus thoroughly cooked, 
they are laid out to dvy. Then they are 
taken to a room where a large number of open 
tin boxes are arranged in rows along a series of 
tables, and packed quickly therein, some of the 
boiling oil being poured on them. The lids are 
now fitted to the boxes, and theseare subjected 
to a jet of hot steam for a specified time. They 
are thus sealed tight, and it is singular that 
after this subjection to the steam the boxes 
appear curved on both sides ; if they are found 
not to be so, they are rejected as not air-tight. 
They are soldered, burnished, and labelled by 
the women, and sometimes are enamelled. 
About one hundred of these boxes are packed 
13 




in each wooden case, and thus forwarded to 
their destination. It is a curious fact about 
sardines, that the longer they are kept, so the 
box is not cracked or opened, the better they 
are; a long residence in the oil -improves their 
complexion as well as their taste ; they become 
mellow and fine after several years' detention 
in their oily prison. Hundreds of thousands 
of these little boxes come yearly to this country, 
giving to our housewives and cooks unlimited 
bother in opening them, and our tables a 
relish such as we could ill do without, while for 
a long journey or a picnic party they are well 
nigh indispensable. Indeed, so popular are 
these tiny inhabitants of restless Biscay, that 
other fish, much less delicious, are put up by un- 
scrupulous men, in a similar way, and labelled 
"Sardines;" but those who arc accustomed 
to the real article will seldom be deceived. 




194 



ICE-BOATING. 




IOE-BOATIU&. 



BY WILLIAM P. DUNCAN. 



ICE-BOAT sailing is very exhilarating and 
healthful, jet possesses the elements of 
danger, which may add to its attractions for 
some minds ; for boys are brave even to the 
verge of recklessness, and many hair-breadth 
escapes there are, the narration of which 
would seem stranger than fiction. The writer 
well remembers many years ago the thrilling 
sensation experienced in his first ride over the 
ice on a lake in a western town. Our boat — 
shaped like a flat-iron, with the rudder at the 
point, a short runner under each corner, 
rigged with mast, mainsail, and jib — and the 
boat in motion, like a flat-iron going back- 
wards — but such going! such motion ! The 
lake was about two miles aci'oss, the wind 
fair, our steersman a lad of nerve and spirit, 
used to a boat. Our ride was simply delight- 
ful, but all too short ; for when we started we 
looked up, and then about and up again, and 
lo ! we had reached the opposite shore. Dis- 
tance was annihilated, steam-travel eclipsed, 
crowded, unhealthy cars forgotten. We turned 
about and fairly revelled in our coursings up 
and down our icy way. That ride passed 
safely enough, but our final landing was ef- 
fected rather abruptly, by reason of the rudder 



becoming somewhat unmanageable, and we 
bunted the wharf in a way that more than 
suggested a wreck, and sent our crew rolling 
upon the ice very promiscuously — but no 
bones of ours were broken, though the front 
of the boat was crushed in. 

A few days after, having repaired damages, 
we went on another excursion. It was near 
the middle of spring; the ice looked sound 
enough, though a little honeycombed in 
spots ; and teams were yet crossing to the 
mills on the other side. The lake formed the 
mouth (rather a wide one) of a river that 
flowed into Lake Michigan, some three miles 
away. We could see its blue waters in the 
distance, but as our boat was not fitted for 
sailing there, we kept away from it. A high 
wind had been blowing for many hours in- 
land from the " big lake," and some of our 
friends had cautioned us to look out for 
" breaking-up time" — and one more timid 
than the rest had even advised us not to ven- 
ture far from shore ; but, nothing daunted, 
we embarked, and by a succession of tacks 
crossed and re-crossed the lake several times. 
The surface of the ice was dotted with many 
sails that seemed all like swift, strong-winged, 
white birds flying to and fro ; and our hearty 
"Ship ahoy!" was scarcely heard, if we 
chanced to meet, so quickly did we pass. 

There was a mill way down the lake, and 



o 

W 
O 
c| 

O 




ICE BOATING, 



197. 



one of our number had an attraction in that vi- 
cinity ; at any rate, he proposed taking a run 
that way, and, boy-like, we all consented, not- 
withstanding the caution we had received. 
We arrived safely, and found very agreeable 
company at the mill boarding-house, and the 
proprietor strongly pressed us to stay that 
night, for a " party" was contemplated in the 
evening; and if any of my readers know what 
a western "party" is, it will be acknowledged 
a strong temptation was put in our way. Yet 
to some of us it did seem that we ought to be 
returning. We could hear the roar of the 
"big lake," but the ice we had traversed 
looked firm and secure, and we yielded. The 
next morning, it was plain to see that the ice 
had undergone a change. It had rained a lit- 
tle during the night, and large patches of the 
surface were covered with shallow pools of 
water. There "vvas a dark, treacherous appear- 
ance to the ice, and one of our number de- 
cided not to return with us, but go down to 
the mouth of the river and cross in a ferry- 
boat. The rest of us were determined to re- 
turn as we came, although our kind host 
urged us to follow the example of our cautious 
comrade. 

Bidding our friends good by, we started 
homeward ; the wind was strong, still blowing 
inland, and our steel runners fairly hummed 
over the ice, as we flew on the wings of the 
wind. We would dash through the surface 
water, throwing it all about us, if by any 
means we fell off our course. All went well 
for a time, and we were congratulating our- 
selves on our probable safe return, when sud- 
denly, as we were bowling along at our top- 
most speed, we spied just ahead of us a wide 
seam in the ice, and the blue water of the 
lake tossing and chafing either side of it. 

"Put about! " " Put about! " "Putabout! " 
was shouted by us all. 

Our steersman, with wonderful speed, did 
" put about," and our vessel obeyed the helm, 
but with such terrible swiftness that one of 
our number Avas hurled with frightful velocity 
into the very chasm we were seeking to avoid. 

It was a fearful moment; the catastrophe 
broke upon us so suddenly, that we wei-e ill 
prepared for it. But, as I said before, our steers- 
man was a lad of nerve and spirit, and putting 
the craft in charge of one of our number, he 
seized apole which we carried, and ran quickly 
to the very edge of the chasm, plunged it in, 
peering anxiously in all directions ; but no 
boy was there. The thought was agonizing 
that the current might have carried our luck- 
less comrade under the ice; but suddenly he 



rose to the surface just beside us, and quickly 
clutched the pole, as only one drowning can, 
and we drew him safely out — more dead than 
alive. Our shouts of rejoicing rang out over 
the lake, and, as we afterwards learned, were 
heard miles away. Vigorous rubbing soon 
restored our half-drowned sailor, — who was 
really going down for the third time as we 
rescued him, and our spirits revived, — lor 
youth is seldom long cast down, — and our 
pleasure at saving his life warmed our bodies 
as well as our hearts. We started again along 
the edge of the chasm, dragging our boat 
till we reached the point, and, rounding it, 
came up the other side, embarked, and once 
more sped on our way. 

"Do you see that.'' " shouted one of our crew. 
We looked astern, and ever and anon we could 
see great cakes of ice turn up on end, and sink 
again in the wake of our runners. Some of 
us turned pale, I fear, but we were none the 
less brave for it. Thanks to a kind Providence, 
we skimmed the watery waste in safety, and 
on reaching our home landing, found the 
wharf lined with anxious friends, who received 
us with loud acclamations of delight and wel- 
come. That ended our ice-boating for the 
season, for as we looked out the next morning, 
we saw the ice moving majestically out to the 
" big lake," and in a few hours it was all an 
open sea. 




<^^:SS3^ 



198 



A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID. 




A BULL-riGHT IN MADEID. 

BY OLIVER OPTIC. 

BETWEEN the bull-fight that you "read 
about" and the bull-fight that you see in 
Spain at the present time, unless the imagina- 
tion is quick, and ready to supply deficiencies, 
there are some important difterences. Possi- 
bly the spectator who is filled with an intense 
admiration of Spanish valor and skill, may be 
able to realize all the glories of which he has 
read in the books. We have come to the con- 
clusion, as an explanation of the difference 
between what we saw and what we read, 
that something of the spirit of the age has 
penetrated the interior of Spain; that as rail- 
roads now extend from north to south, and 
from east to west, over the entire length and 
breadth of the country, thej' have produced a 
change in the manners and customs of the 
people. Wherever they go, they cany thrift 
and intelligence, and elevate the ideas of even 
the masses, giving broader and higher views 
of life and its objects. A Catholic nation, 
with the traditions of Spain behind it, with 
the memories and monuments of Charles V. 
and Philip 11. still extant, which had the 
moral courage to suppress the monasteries 
within its borders, must be a progressive 



nation. We refer to the action of a Catholic 
people in a Catholic country. We should 
hardly expect the bull-fight of to-day, though 
ihejiesta de toros is still retained, and still 
enjoyed, to be what it was, even twenty years 
ago, when hardly a railroad was in opera- 
tion in all Spain. We should expect to see 
in this amusement the same modifications 
which we find in the other institutions of the 
country. 

We have been told, and we have read, that 
the young man who is paying his addresses to 
a young lady takes her to the bull-fight as a 
matter of course, and that the omission to do 
this would be considei-ed a gross neglect; 
gross enough to justify the lady in discarding 
so neglectful a wooer. Of course, then, when 
we went to a bull-fight, we expected to see a 
vast number of ladies. The "bull-ring" of 
Madrid is said to contain ten or twelve thou- 
sand people when it is full. We should judge 
that its capacity was equal to this num- 
ber. We visited it on an extraordinary occa- 
sion, and every available space seemed to be 
occupied, but the number of ladies did not 
exceed two hundred; and we think there were 
not more than half that number. We left the 
place when the exhibition was half finished, 
and walked for an hour in the Prado, which 
was crowded with people ; but at least three 



A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID. 



[99 



fourths of them were ladies and children. 
The inference was, that the men were at the 
bull-ring, while the ladies preferred the clear 
air and the bright sun of the beautiful gardens 
which abound in the capital of Spain. 

Certainly there was little of the savage 
ferocity described by most of the writers on 
this subject. We have conversed with' those 
who have witnessed bull-fights, even within a 
dozen years, in which as miany as twenty 
horses were killed on the spot; and we have 
read of occasions on which double this num- 
ber were sacrificed. As the success of a 
fuiicion depends largely upon the number of 
hoi-ses killed, these were, of course, very 
brilliant. 

We saw three bulls finished, but not a horse 
was killed, though one of the half dozen 
ridden must have died from his injuries. 
Again, the fiery steeds which appear in pic- 
tures and in the animated narratives of the 
national pastime of Spain are not to be found 
in the ring at the present day. On the 
contrary, they are jaded old hacks, which have 
worn out their lives on the omnibuses or 
public carriages of the city. They are thin 
in flesh, knock-kneed, and stiff, afflicted with 
spavins, string-halt, and other diseases. 
Though the public cry out for the death of 
the horses, the}' do not seem to be extensively 
gratified. 

We were told that the horses were supplied 
b}' contract with an individual or a company, 
who — like some of the rings in our own 
country — bargain to cheat the people out of 
what they paj' for. The less the number of 
horses destroyed, the greater are the gains of 
the contractor ; and he contrives to have an 
understanding with the operators in the ring 
to save as many animals as possible, which 
they can do to the extent the temper of the 
audience will permit, by a skilful use of their 
banners in diverting the attention of the bull. 
We were also informed that, in case the 
contractor's horses provided for a given occa- 
sion should come short of the number re- 
quired, he has unlimited power to take a 
further supply from the cabs, carts, and omni- 
buses on the streets, as the military may 
take the produce of the country, in time of 
war, from friend or foe. Of course, if the 
people are gathered to see horses mangled 
and slaughtered, they must not be disappoint- 
ed because the contractor has under-estimated 
the ferocity of the bull! Horses must be 
killed, even if hacks and omnibuses are stopped 
in the streets to obtain the victims. 

For a week preceding the last Sunday in 



October, 1870, the streets of Madrid were 
placarded with immense yellow posters, with 
a large and coarse cut of a scene in the bull- 
ring representing the death of a bull. The 
bill read as follows : — 

'■ Bull Ring. 

(Cut.) 

Oil the Afiernoo?i of Sttnday, October 30, 1870, 

Will be performed 

(If the tveat/ier permits), 

The t-weiitieth Btill-Fight. 

The Last of the Season ! 

For the Benefit of the General Hospital. 

The Ring ivill be presided over by the proper 
Authorities. 

The present performance will positively be the 
last of the season ; for at the end of the current 
month, the contracts with the bull-fighters 
are concluded. 




Espada. 

For this reason their Excellencies, the 
Committee of the Province, desiring to express 
to the public their profound gratitude for the 
numerous occasions which have contributed 
so largely to the relief of the sick poor in the 
General Hospital, have arranged that this 
bull-fight shall have all the features of an 
extraordinary performance; and that, in com- 



200 



A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID, 



pliment to the people, and without alteration 
of the price, will be killed 

Eight Bulls 
from the most celebrated ganaderias (farms 
where bulls are raised). The committee have 
arranged that the Ring shall be adorned with 
splendid hangings ; that the whole shall be a 
^rt /a performance; that the bandarillas shall 
be ornamented with garlands, flowers, feathers, 
banners and streamers; and, finally, that the 
bull-fighters have determined to show in their 
performance, that they are worthy of the 
appreciation and applause which the public 
have awarded to them. 




Banderillero. 

The eight bulls will be from the ganaderias 
following : — 

Two bulls from the ga7iaderia of His Excel- 
lency, the Duke of Veragua, near Madrid; 
two from that of Don Vicente Martinez; two 
from that of His Excellency, Sr. Don Rafael 
Laffitte ; one from that of Don Antonio Miura ; 
one from that of Don Joaquin Concha Sierra. 

Bull-Fighters. 

PiCADORES. For the first four bulls, Juan, 

Antonio Mondejar and Jose 

Calderon ; and for the last four, 

Ramon Agujetas and Manuel 

Calderon. There will be two 

reserves oi picadores should necessity require 

them. 



EsPADAS. Cuyetano Sanz, Francisco Ar- 
jona, and Reyes, and Salvador 
Sanchez. 

Supernumerary EsPADA. Angel Fernandez. 

The order of entrance of the bulls will be 
settled in the ring on the day of the exhibition, 
at half past eleven o'clock. The tickets for 
the forenoon, at four reales (twenty cents), for 
sale at eleven o'clock. 

The usual care taken against accidents. As 
previously announced, no dogs will be used; 
but fire banderillas will be substituted for 
bulls which will not fight at the call of the 
Authorities. No more bulls than those an- 
nounced will be provided. 

The prices of all seats will be the same as 
those of previous exhibitions. All except 
children at the breast will be i-equired to pur- 
chase tickets; and the public are notified that 
no tickets will be exchanged at the ofiice, 
except in case of postponement; and no 
checks will be given to go out. Ticket Office, 
No. 24 Calla de Alcala, wall be opened Friday 
and Saturday, from 10 A. M. till night, and 
Sunday from the same hour until 3 P. M. 

Doors open at i o'clock. The performance 
will commence precisely at 3 o'clock. The 
Hospital Band will perform at the opening, and 
during the intervals." 

As this was a gala day, the Calla de Alcala, 
the street leading from the Puerta del Sol, or 
principal square of the city, from which radi- 
ate several of the great avenues of the city, 
was filled with a crowd of people, most of 
whom were men. The tickets had been 
largely taken up by speculators, who were ped- 
dling them out on the street at about twenty- 
five per cent, advance, shouting vigorously as 
they announced their wares. We paid a 
dollar and a quarter for one of the best seats 
" in the shade," though the less eligible seats 
could be bought for a half or a quarter of this 
price. We reached the Plaza de Toros in 
good time, and obtained a cushioned seat, 
near enough to see all the finer points of the 
national spectacle. The ring was filled with 
men walking about, chatting, and smoking — 
we never saw a Spaniard who did not smoke., 
Everything was quiet and orderly; and the 
audience seemed to be composed of intelligent 
and respectable people. At a signal made 
with a flourish of trumpets, a couple of officials 
dressed in black, and mounted on better horses 
than the ;pi'cadores ride, entered the ring, and 
the people slowly retired from it. The two 
horsemen, who are supposed to be soldiers 
of the civil guard, rode very deliberately acro'ss 
and around the I'ing, making no demonstia- 



A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID. 



20I 



tions of any kind, till the people had all got 
over the fence and taken their places in the 
amphitheatre. The seats of the spectators are 
arranged on inclined planes, so that all of 
them command a fair view of the scene. Be- 
tween the arena and the seats of the people 
is an open space for the use of the bull-fight- 
ers ; though not a few "loafers" invade it. 
Over the partition which separates this space 
from the spectators, a rope is extended around 
the entire circle, to prevent the bull from leap- 
ing in among them, as he sometimes attempts 
to do ; for he not unfrequentlj jumps over the 
fence into the intervening space. On the 
partition next to the ring is nailed a ledge of 
wood, bj which the operators are enabled 
easily to jump over the fence when closely 
pursued by the bull. There are four entrances 
with double doors, opening inward to the 
ring. 

At another flourish of trumpets, one of 
these entrances is opened, and all who are to 
take part in the futicw7t march into the ring, 
and pay their respects to the authorities in 
charge of the performance. Some of these 
bull-fighters are paid large sums for their 
services, and are rnen of great distinction 
among the people. A bull-fight in Madrid 
or Seville costs about two thousand dollars. 
The performers are divided into four classes ; 
the most important and distinguished of which 
are, the espadas (from espada, a sword), who 
kill the bull. They are the masters of their art ; 
and their photographs ai-e for sale in the 
principal cities. They are men of great skill 
and courage, having a decided genius for their 
business. They come up from the lower class 
of performers, without necessarily passing 
through all the regular grades. They are 
paid from two hundred and fifty to three hun- 
dred dollars for an afternoon's work ; and two 
or three of them are employed for each per- 
formance. 

The second class are the banderilleros, who 
receive from fifty to seventy-five dollars for a 
single performance. Their name comes from 
banderilla, a stick about three feet long, 
adorned with bright-colored ribbons, in the 
end of which is a dart with fangs, which 
spring out when thrust into the shoulders of 
the bull, so that it cannot be drawn out. 

The third class are thepicadores, who receive 
about one hundred dollars for their services 
on each occasion. They are regarded as 
drunkards and " scalliwags," but are paid 
more than the batidertUeroa, because they are 
ftuviDosed to incur greater peril at the conflict. 

The fourth class are the ckulos, who are paid 



from fifteen to twenty dollars. They are men 
selected for their skill and activity ; for their 
business is to enrage the bull, and to decoy 
him from others when they are too closely 
pressed. 

All the actors of the several classes marched 
or rode solemnly into the ring, and made their 
obeisance to '■'■La Autoridadcompetente.'" The 
procession was followed by three mules har- 
nessed abreast, and gayly decorated with rib- 
bons. After the performers had paid their re- 
spects to the " powers that be," all of them 
retired except a couple of pt'cadores, and sev- 
eral chulos. The former are mounted on the 




diseased old horses, which are blindfolded, 
when the fight begins. They are gayly 
dressed in bright colors, as in the engraving. 
Their legs seem to be disproportionately large, 
and very stiff", as though they had all been 
seized with the gout. They are boarded and 
stuifed to meet the onslaught of the bull. If 
the enraged animal should happen to unhorse 
the picador, he is unable to get up alone, 
and the other combatants must lift him from 
the ground and put him on his horse. The 
chulos are provided with banners of red and 
yellow, which have the appearance of large 
mantles. 

At another signal, after the two pt'cadores 
have stationed themselves on opposite sides 



203 



A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID. 



of the arena, with poised lances, one of them 
being near the gate by which the bull is to 
enter, the doors are thrown wide open. El 
toro has been thorned and vexed, and stirred 
up to the highest degree of fury in his pen, 
and in this condition he rushes into the ring, 
intent upon Avreaking his vengeance upon his 
tormentors, " or any other man." The//ca- 
dor near him first attracts his attention, and 
he " goes for him." Dropping his head so 
that his horns are brought to bear on the ob- 
ject aimed at, the bull makes a spring at the 
horse and rider.- The picador receives him on 
his spear, which wounds the animal, and turns 
him off. If the bull is mad enough, he would 
make an end of horse and rider at this point; 
but a chulo flourishes the banner in his face, 
and draws him off. It is a rule of the game 
that the stupid brute will always rush upon 
the red cloth. He goes for that when it is 
shown, and not for man or horse. 




A Feat of a Chulo. 

Having relieved the fii-st picador, the c/ndo 
jumps over the fence, and then the bull sees the 
second picador on the other side. He rushes 
upon him, and to gi-atify the audience, he is 
permitted to gore the horse, which he some- 
times does so effectually as to kill the steed, 
and " spill " the rider. But the chulos in the 
interest of the contractor do not often permit 
this to be done, but by the adi-oit use of the 
banners call off the bull from his prey. 

In the assault upon the second picador in 
this fight, the flank of the horse was ripped up, 
and his entrails protruded, whereat the people 
yelled their applause. The game with the 
bull was continued for a few moments by the 
chulos, who lured him from one part of the 
ring to another with their banners, often being 



obliged to jump over the fence to escape his 
horns. 

After this play had continued for a time, 
a signal with the trumpets bi-ought the batide- 
rilleros into the ring, armed with the imple- 
ments of their oiBce. One of them engages 
the attention of the bull, and when the furious 
animal comes at him, with his head dropped 
down so as to transfix him on his horns, he 
dexterously thrusts the two darts into his 
shoulders, and escapes £is best he may. This 
is really one of the most daring and skilful 
feats of the performance, for the banderillero, 
with a dart in each hand, has no banner with 
which to distract the attention of the bull. 
He " faces the music," and if he fails to plant 
the banderillas in the bull, his chances of 
escape are small. When he has achieved his 
difficult feat, the chulos take the bull in hand 
again, and tease him for a moment more. 

At another signal one of the espadas makes 
his appearance in the ring. Though the bull 
may be near him, the man is cool, dignified, 
and self-possessed. He marches directly to a 
position in front of the authorities, removes 
his cap, and declares, in lofty speech, that, 
"in the name of the good city of Madrid and 
of the people there assembled, and for the 
benefit of the General Hospital, he will kill 
the bull, or be killed in the attempt to do so." 
This speech is varied at times, and the esfada 
asks permission to kill the bull, and promises 
to perform his part in a manner which shall 
do honor to the people of Madrid. Having 
made his address, he swings his right arm 
around behind him, tossing his cap over his 
left shoulder into the amphitheatre among 
the spectators. With a Toledo blade in one 
hand, and a small red banner in the other, he 
begins to discharge the duty he has agreed, 
with so much flourish, to perform. Attracting 
the attention of the bull with a red flag, which 
is the best calculated to excite the resentment 
of the beast, he frolics with him for a time, 
displaying the utmost skill and dexterity in 
warding off an assault. When the "bull 
makes a dive at him," he springs one side, 
and doubles on him. No one assists him; 
but he incurs all the peril by himself. When 
he distinguishes himself, the people not only 
applaud furiously, but throw their hats into 
the arena; thus giving a key to the common 
slang, "Take my hat," when any one has done 
a big thing. If the feat is emphatically bril- 
liant, a shower of cigars, and even a few silver 
pesos mingled with them, will be thrown into 
the ring. He bows his acknowledgments, and 
the chulos pick up the gifts and hand them 



A BULL-FIGHT IN MADRID, 



203 



over to him. The decisive moment approaches, 
and he prepares to make an end of the fight. 
Holding out the banner in his left hand, ex- 
tended across his breast, the esfada approaches 
his intended victim. The wrathful bull rushes 
upon the obnoxious color, and, as he drops 
his head, the espada, reaching over the horns 
of the animal, plunges the sword deep' down 
between the shoulders, aiming at the heart. 
Sometimes he kills him instantly, and some- 
times he fails to do the deadly job. Fair play 
is one of the elements of the game ; and if the 
blow is not fatal, the espada must recover his 
weapon, if he had not already done so, and try 
again with the same one. We saw a bull 
stabbed three times before he was killed. He 
cannot be struck, either, when he is down. 




Espada. 

One of the three we saw killed, leaped over 
the inner fence after he was stabbed, causing 
a tremendous commotion among the " loafei s " 
there assembled. He was driven back into 
the ring, and a second lunge at his heart killed 
him. Sometimes the bull is a coward, or, for 
some reason, will not fight, and is not " game ' 
The bull-fighters have no mercy upon such, 
and torment him with fireworks, and if he 
prove obstinately peaceful, hunt him down 
with dogs. The bull is sure to be killed in the 
end; there is no immunity from his fate, how 
evercourageous or however cowardly he mij 
be. As soon as he drops, a cachctero plunges 
a short dagger in the spine of the vanquished 
beast, to make sure that he is dead ; the gajh 
harnessed mule-team is attached to him, and 
he is dragged ignominiouslj'out of the ring, to 
be cut up and sold for beef. One gateway i& 
no sooner closed upon the victim of one fight 
than another opens for the admission of the 
second, and the scene is re-enacted with some 
si'ght variations. A ckulo, braver and more 
ambitious than the rest, seeks to distinguish 



himself, and performs some daring feat, such 
as jumping upon the back of the bull, leaping 
over him, or seizing him by the horns. Such 
acts always win applause, and the daring 
fellow believes he had taken the first step 
towards being an espada. 

In Toledo, a few days after the bull-fight 
we have described, we met a beautiful, highly- 
educated, and refined American lady, the wife 
of a naval officer, who rather startled us with 
the information that she had attended this 
particular corrida. She expressed her opinion 
in regard to it with a snap of the ej'e and a 
vigor of diction which pleased us not a little. 
Her sympathies were all with the bull, and for 
the poor old horses. She declared that noth- 
ing would have pleased her so much as to see 
one or more of the bull-fighters tossed in the 
air by the animal. Undoubtedly there is a 
great deal of skill and science, and even cour- 
age, displayed by the lidiadores, but the bull is 
overmatched. He has no chance at all. If 
his nature could be so changed that- he would 
"go for" the men, instead of the red banner, 
we fancy that bull-fights would soon be out 
of fashion. 




204 



YACHTS AND YACHTING. 



YACHTS AWD TAOHTING. 



BY OLIVER OPTIC. 



OUR boys are marvellously like other 
boys, and therefore desire to know more 
about boats and boating. The yachting season 
has already commenced, and promises to be 
one of the most interesting and exciting for 
years. We present to our readers this month 
a full page engraving of a lively yacht scene, 
which will doubtless wake up the imagination 
of our boys. The sloop yacht in the foreground 
is doing her prettiest, and appears to be log- 
ging at least ten knots. The picture has a 
regular salt-water swash, and conveys a capital 
idea of a first-class yacht, " with a fresh breeze 
and a white-cap sea." 

Sailing is certainly one of the most exhila- 
rating sports in the whole catalogue of amuse- 
ments; and when we consider how kindly 
full-grown men, even those who have spent 
half a century of years among the vanities and 
frivolities of this earth, take to it, we cannot 
wonder that the younger members of the male 
persuasion desire to taste its joys. 

But, whatever may be said of its exciting 
pleasures, sailing is a dangerous amusement 
for inexperienced persons, be they men or 
boys. We protest most earnestly against 
young men, without knowledge, skill, or ex- 
perience, being trusted, or trusting themselves, 
to handle a sail-boat. They should have skip- 
pers to sail their craft, until they have acquired 
the requisite skill and power to manage the 
boat. This skill and knowledge apper- 
tain not only to the boat, but to several other 
conditions. The boatman should be reason- 
ably weather-wise, so that he can see when a 
squall or storm is coming. He should have 
some idea of the power of big waves, so as 
not to swamp his craft in the trough of a sea. 
He ought to learn the " rules of the road," so 
as to avoid collision. The eye and the ear 
should be schooled, so that the former may be 
tolerably accurate in the measurement of dis- 
tances, and the latter may give warning of 
danger in the night or in a fog. Practice, and 
the companionship of well-trained boatmen, 
while actually managing a boat, are all that 
are needed. No taking of lessons, or formal 
studying of the subject, will enable one to 
acquire the art; but it will come of itself from 
natural observation and experience. 

There are some things which maybe learned 
from books and verbal explanations, but the 
one thing needful in sailing a boat will not 
come of reading or listening. We beg that no 
young man will think he can become a skipper 



by reading this, or any other article, or all 
that has ever been written on the subject. We 
can give the names of the various spars, sails, 
and pieces of rigging in a yacht, and explain 
the theory of sailing a boat, but we can no 
more fit a boy to sail a yacht than a four-year- 
old could be prepared for running a locomotive 
by showing him the picture of the machine. 

Ordinary yachts are either sloops or 
schooners, the former having only one mast, 
the latter two. Both have a bowsprit, but a 
one-masted boat, without one, the mast 
stepped well forward, is said to be "cat- 
rigged." 

Figure I. represents a sloop. The low- 
er part is called the hull. The spar set 
nearly perpendicular is the mast. A schoon- 
er has two masts, distinguished by the names 
fore and main; the latter word meaning 
principal., and not farthest aft. It is al- 
ways the larger of the two. In ships and 
barks, having three masts, the middle one 
is the main-mast, which is the largest and tall- 
est of the three; and the hindmost is called 
the mizzen-mast. K is the bowsprit. In the 
larger schooner. yachts another spar, extend- 
ing still farther forward, and at the end of 
which another sail is fastened, is called the 
jib-boom. A rope or chain, running from K 
down to the cutwater — which is just what the 
word indicates — is called a bob-stay, d e\i> 
the boom, generally called the main-boom. 
g g\^ the gaft". The end next to the mast is 
called the throat; the other end, the peak. The 
upper part of the mast, which is sometimes a 
separate spar, spliced upon the lower mast, is 
the top-mast. 

Near the water, r is the rudder; and the 
stick attached to it above the rail, or highest 
part of the hull, is the tiller, by which the 
rudder is turned. In the larger yachts, and 
even in some small ones, a wheel, either hori- 
zontal or perpendicular, is used instead of a 
tiller. The helm is a term applied to the 
whole steering apparatus, whatever it may 
be. *' To take the helm," is to grasp the tiller, 
wheel, or tiller-ropes ; it is steering the boat, 
however it may be done. " To carry a weather 
helm " indicates that the craft has a tendency 
to throw her head up into the wind, and the 
tiller must be turned towards the weather side, 
or side from which the wind comes, to counter- 
act this tendency. "A lee helm" is just the 
opposite, and is a dangei-ous propensity in a 
yacht. 

Standing rigging consists of shrouds, stays, 
and other parts which are not moved. Run- 
ning rigging consists of halyards, sheets, and 



YACHTS AND YACHTING. 



205 




Figure i. 



other parts used in hoisting, lowering, and 
trimming sails. The rope from G to IC\s the 
jib-stay, on which the jib runs up and down. 
That extending from the top-mast to d, at the 
outer end of the main-boom, h k, is the top- 
ping lift, used to hold up the boom. Stays 
are ropes used to support masts or topmasts. 
In square-rigged vessels, the fore and aft stays 
lead from the tops of the masts or topmasts to 
other masts, or to the bowsprit, and back-stays 
from the topmasts down to the sides. In 
small craft any rope used to support the mast 
is called a stay. In schooners the rope lead- 
ing from one mast head (not topmast) to the 
other parallel to the deck is the spring stay. 
A loose rope under the bowsprit, or under that 
part of the boom extending beyond the hull, is 
a foot-rope, for the men stand upon in loos- 
ing and furling the jib and mainsail. 

The rope attached to the jib at G, by which 
the sail is hoisted, is the jib-halyard — used 
in the singular or plural. They lead down to 
the deck on the starboard side ; i!ying-jib hal- 
yards on the port side. At m are the jib- 
sheets, usually a pair of them, to trim the sail 
on either side. The main-sail is hoisted by two 
sets of halyards. The blocks and rope abaft 
the mast, above g, are the throat-halyards, 
■which always lead down on the starboard 
side; at p are the peak-halj'ards, which lead 
down on the port side. The little marks across 
the mainsail, i, i; 2, 2; 3, 3, are reef-points. 



A rope is sewed into the edge of the sail all 
around, called the bolt-rope. At 1, 2, and 3, 
on each side, are critigles, or holes, through 
which a rope, called a reef-pendent, is passed, 
in hauling the part of the sail to be reefed 
down to the boom. The reef-points are short 
pieces of rope, going through the sail, the ends 
hanging down on each side. When the main- 
sail is to be reefed, they are tied under the 
lower edge of the sail, thus confining a portion 
of the sail in a roll on the boom. One, two, 
or three reefs may be taken, as indicated by 
the figures. When three are taken, the sail is 
said to be close-reefed. A line of reef-points 
is shown on the jib, which are seldom used on 
small craft. In the larger yachts, the part of 
the jib below the reef-points is often a separate 
piece, which can be taken off" at pleasure, and 
is called the bonnet. The tackle under the 
boom near the tiller is the main-sheet, which 
may be let out till the boom is at right angles 
with the hull. 

The diagram 8, in Figure II., shows the posi- 
tions of the boom. In sailing before the wind, 
the sheet may be let out till the boom is at a 
or c, on either side. In a schooner, going 
exactly before the wind, the fore-sail is some- 
times let out on one side, and the main-sail on 
the other; she is then "wing and wing." A 
sloop is wing and wing when the jib is trimmed 
on one side and the main-sail on the other. 
When the wind comes from the direction e, or 



2o6 



YACHTS AND YACHTING 



on the beam, the boom is at b. In 

this position she is said to be on 

the port tack, the wind being on 

the port beam, or to have her port 

tacks aboard. When the wind 

comes from a, the boom is at d, 

and she is on the starboard tack, 

or has her starboard tacks aboard. 

When the boom is at c, or a very 

little angling either way, she is 

close-hauled, or by the wind, and 

is sailing as near as she can in the 

direction from which the wind 

comes. 

The arrows at the bottom of the 

figure represent the direction of 

the wind : the craft at i is before 

the wind. To bring her into po- 
sition 2, put the helm to port, and 

haul on the jib and main sheets. 

She is now on the starboard tack, 

going free, with the wind on the 

quarter. To work her into posi- 
tion 3, with the wind on the beam, 

repeat the same operation. Then, 

to bring her up into the wind, as 

in position 4, port the helm and haul on the 
main-sheet, till the boom comes from a b X.o 
b b. If alone, haul in the jib-sheet after the 
main-sheet. If the breeze is fresh and the 
yacht large, it may be necessary to spill the 
sails, that is, throw the boat's head up into the 
wind till the sails flap; this will make it easy 
work, for it is difficult to pull against the whole 
force of the wind. In positions 2, 3, and 4, 
putting the helm to the port side is putting it 
doxvn, that is, away from the wind. In posi- 
tion 5, starboard is down. 

Caution. In positions i, 2, 3, or 4, the 
helm should never be put to starboard, or up, 
even in a light wind, for it will gybe the boat, 
which is a very dangerous manoeuvre, espe- 
cially for unskilful boatmen. If you wish to 
go to the westward, it is better to wear entirely 
around, that is, keep the helm down, or 
hard a-lee, till the sail shakes; then the boom 
will go over without danger. 

The boat in position 5 is close-hauled and 
beating to windward, the line K being her 
course, though a good yacht will lie up to the 
wind closer than this line indicates. Her 
course to the southward ought to be a series 
of diagonals, like the two in the diagram. At 
each angle, she tacks. At position 6, the 
skipper puts the helm dotvfi, to starboard, or 
hard a-lee. The manoeuvre is called " going 
in stajs," or tacking. In a full-manned yacht 




Figure 2. 

the command of the captain is, " Ready 
about!" or, "Ready to go in stays I" The 
main-sheet usually slips over on an iron rod, 
called a traveller, and needs no attention in 
tacking. When the bowsprit points in the 
direction from which the wind comes, or a 
little before, all the sails shake and flap. The 
momentum acquired while the sails were still 
drawing gives her steerage way, and she con- 
tinues to mind her helm, till, in position 7, the 
sails begin to draw on the other side. The 
jib-sheet is not cast off till the sail fills, when 
the skipper says, " Draw, jib," and the hands 
forward let off the weather, and haul the lee, 
sheet. In small yachts, the jib-sheets lead 
aft, and the skipper may manage them him- 
self. The manoeuvre is repeated at position 
4, and the yacht again sails in the direction of 
the first diagonal. 

In sailing on the wind, or going free, the 
skipper should sit on the weather side, so that 
his view ahead may not be obstructed \>y the 
sails. A boat going free gives way to one that 
is by the wind, or close-hauled. If the courses 
of two yachts by the wind threaten a collision, 
the one on the port tack must give way to the 
one on the starboard tack. 

No one but a fool will be careless and reck- 
less in a sail-boat. There is no honor or glory 
in fool-hardiness. 



LITTLE BUILDERS. 



209 




The Little Builder. 



LITTLE BUILDERS. 
I. BEAVERS. 

"]\ /TAN was not the first builder. Long be- 
-'-*-'- fore houses, or tents, or huts, were built, 
long before there were men to need shelter, 
little animals, of different species, made their 
ingenious dwellings, as well adapted for their 
wants as our houses are for our real or fancied 
necessities and conveniences. 

Long before man built dams across rivers 
or brooks, beavers, with wonderful ingenu- 
ity, made their dams, which have remained 
for generations, until large trees have grown 
upon them, and they have become permanent; 
and they have set examples of diligence, per- 
severance, and care which men might profita- 
bly imitate. 

In the Northern and Middle States, in 
marshy localities, or where brooks and small 
rivers flow, beaver dams or beaver meadows 
are numerous, but the builders are gone. The 
gradual "clearing" of the country, and the 
zeal of the hunters, have driven them north- 
ward and westward, until now they are very 
scarce, and even under the shelter of the woods 
of the Rocky Mountain region they are few in 
number. 

Beavers are sought for their beautiful fur, 
and for an odorous and oily brown substance 
called castoreum^ which has a disagreeable 
smell and a bitter taste, but is highly valued 
by perfumers and the medical profession. 
There was a time when a "beaver hat" ivas 
beaver, and not silk, or some other material; 
but a genuine "beaver" would be a costly 
14 



curiosity in these days, while the imitation 
answers every purpose save that of durability. 
The fur of the beaver is highly valued, and 
therefore the hunters sought for the intelli- 
gent, ingenious, and industrious animal with 
great zeal. But the supply was ere long near- 
ly exhausted; and, as is usual in such cases, 
man's ingenuity came to his aid, and satisfac- 
tory substitutes were found. Castor^ or castor 
beaver, as applied to a hat, has an origin plain 
to be seen. It has been said, recently, that the 
use of material other than fur in the manufac- 
ture of hats has given such a respite to the 
fiercely-hunted beaver, that they are reset- 
tling their forsaken haunts, and may again 
become numerous. 

The beaver is not a particularly handsome 
animal. Its large head, small eyes, cloven 
upper lip, long and wide tail, its hind feet, 
webbed and larger than the fore feet, the muz- 
zle projecting a little beyond tlie jaws, — these 
characteristics do not unite in making an ani- 
mal beautiful to the sight, and only illustrate 
the fact that character and habits in animals, 
as well as in men, are not always to be known 
by external appearance. The beaver's ears are 
movable, and are not very prominent; and, 
when the animal dives, he lays them close to 
his head, and thus prevents the water from 
entering. 

Many and wonderful stories are told of the 
habits and the ingenuity of the beaver; but 
the truth is sufficient, without exaggeration. 
It is a social animal — seems to understand 
the practical methods and value of " coopera- 
tion," and exercises a judicious choice in its 



2IO 



LITTLE BUILDERS. 




Haunts of the Beaver. 

dwelling-place. The dams which thej build 
are built for a purpose, and mistakes in the 
" civil engineering " are apparently unknown. 
Clear rivers and brooks, and sometimes lakes, 
are chosen for their habitations ; and, wher- 
ever they take possession, they immediately 
set at work to adapt the place to all their 
wants. The first and imperative want is a 
full supply of water at all seasons of the 
year; for the beaver is amphibious, and makes 
but a poor piece of work in travelling on the 
land. With wonderful instinct, as if with the 
precaution of reason, they build dams for the 
purpose of raising the water to the desired 
height, and then on the bank they construct 
their rude dwellings. As they ai-e night labor- 
ers, little is known, by actual observation, of 
their manner of working; but it is easy to 
judge by examination of the results. At some 
distance above the place where they design to 
build the dam, they cut down trees, and let 
the current bear them down streain towards 
the situation ; and with the branches and 
trunks, cut according to their wislies or neces- 
sities, and with mud and stones, they grad- 
ually make a dam which effectually resists the 
action of the water. With true engineering 
skill, the base of the dam is made about ten 
or twelve feet wide at the bottom, and about 
two feet wide at the top ; and, as in process of 
time the stream brings down bushes, and 
sticks, and mud, &c., which lodge on the 
dam and become a part of it, the structure 
gains solidity and strength ; and of course 
vegetation starts upon it, and the roots of 
bushes and trees crawl down into the mass, 



and hold it tightly in position. When the 
stream is shallow, and the current slow, the 
dam is built straight across; but wherever 
the current is strong, the dam is curved, with 
the convex side up the stream, so that a 
stronger resistance shall be made to the 
rushing water. Man's ingenuity and science 
cannot improve upon this. 

The teeth of the beaver are wonderfully 
fitted for the labor of cutting trees ; they are 
very strong and very sharp; the jaws are also 
remarkably strong. One naturalist says thai 
their teeth are so sharp, and are used with 
such skill, that a tame beaver has repeatedly 
been seen to take a potato or an apple in 
his fore paws, sit upon his hind feet, and 
merely by pressing the apple against his 
lower incisors, and dexterously changing its 
position, to peel it as readily as if done by a 
human being with a knife. 

In building a dam, the logs are laid hori- 
zontally, and kept in place by stones and 
mud. They are generally six or seven inches 
in diameter, but sometimes have been found 
as large as eighteen inches through. When 
it is remembered that dams have been found 
three hundred feet in length, ten or twelve 
feet wide at the base, and of a height varying 
according to the depth of the water, some idea 
may be had of the patience and perseverance 
of these model builders. The beaver displays 
skill in selecting and cutting trees. Having 
found one in the right place, he sits upright, 
and with his sharp teeth cuts a groove com- 
pletely round the trunk, and then widens and 
deepens it. When the tree is nearlj^ cut off, 
as seen in the cut, he examines it carefull3% 
and calculates in what direction it is best that 
it should fall ; he then goes to the opposite 
side and bites at the thin support until the 
tree comes crashing down. Then the build- 
ers cut it into pieces about a yard in length, 
roll, carry, tumble, or drag them to and into 
the water, and load them with stones and 
earth to sink and hold them. They work 
heartiljs and assist each other in the most 
efficient inanner. 

Before placing the logs in proper position, 
they strip off the bark and 
store it away for winter pro 
vision; and they also pro- 
vide an additional supply by 
taking the small branches, 
diving with them to the 
foundations of the dam, and 
carefully fastening them to 
the logs. And then, in win- 
ter time, when a fresh sup- 




How THE Beav- 
er CUTS A Tree. 



LITTLE BUILDERS 



211 




Beavers cutting Logs. 

ply of food is wanted, they have it near by 
ready for use. They are especially fond of 
willows, poplars, elders, and birch trees. In 
summer they feed upon fish, fruits, and plants. 
With their dam securely built, they have a 
good supply of water, in which they swim, and 
work, and play, and the closeness of the fur 
coats they wear, the paddle-like tail, and the 
webbed feet, come into full use. 

Beavers' houses are rudely built, but are 
sufficient for all the wants of their occupants, 
and are used only in winter time. There are 
no " spare rooms " or " best chambers," no 
"parlors" and rooms for special occasions; 
but the houses are always of the suitable size 
for the number of occupants, usually three or 
four parents and six or eight young beavers. 
In building their houses the beaver takes mud 
from the edge of the bank, and stones and 
wood, and carries the material between his 
fore-paws and chin, and placing it where he 
wants it, turns about and gives it a hard slap 
with his broad tail. They seem to have no 
other design than to build a strong and warm 
structure, and great diligence and care are 
exercised in accomplishing the task. The 
partitions in these houses, which some writers 
speak of, are simply portions of the main 
building, which the sagacious beaver has left 
to support the roof, similar to the supports 
left by underground miners. Late in the au- 



tumn, generally just before frost, the beavers 
cover their houses with a thick layer of mud; 
and as this freezes hard, it makes a strong 
protection against the wolverine, their con- 
stant enemy. The building operations usually 
begin the latter part of August, although the 
material is often collected earlier in the sea- 
son, and as soon as the interior is finished, all 
the projecting twigs and branches are cut off, 
and packed into the walls, and plastered over, 
a large stock of food is laid in, with an extra 
supply under water, as before stated. The 
houses are so built that entrance and inter- 
communication are by water only; and in 
winter time the hunters strike the ice, in order 
to ascertain if they are near the underground 
openings of a beaver's lodge. When satisfied 
of this, they cut away the ice and close the 
entrance to the house, and then carefully 
" sounding" the passage-way, reach the house 
and capture the inmates. 

The " castoreum," of which we have spoken, 
is the chief reliance of the beaver-hunter. The 
animals are strangely attracted by it ; and if 
they smell it, they will sit upright, sniff" in all 
directions to detect its location, and really 
squeal with excitement. The hunter, taking 
advantage of this propensity, always carries a 
supply of castoreum in a tight vessel, and, 
when he finds a good place for a trap, uses it 
for bait. The trap is usually laid so as to be a 
few inches under water, with the bait project- 
ing a little above the surface. Any beaver 
which scents the bait will certainly come to 
it; and young ones are sure to be caught, 
but old and experienced beavers will often- 
times not only avoid capture, but render the 
trap useless. Instead of trying to take the 




Homes of the Beaver. 



212 



LITTLE BUILDERS, 




KWASIND. 

bait, they will pile mud and stones upon the 
trap until quite a hillock is made, deposit 
some castoreum of their own, and depart in 
peace. This curious substance, by the way, 
is secreted in two sacs near the roots of the 
tail. 

There are idlers among beavers as among 
men; these do not dwell in houses, nor do 
they build dams, but burrow like common 
water-rats. They are always males, and sev- 
eral of them live together and keep a genuine 
" bachelors' hall." 

The wolverine, commonly called the glut- 
ton, is, next to man, the beaver's enemy. He 
is a courageous, obstinate, and cunning ani- 
mal, and as troublesome to hunters, by his 
tricks, as to the beavers. He resembles some- 
what a young bear, is of a brownish color, 
and is regarded as a link between the badger 
and the polecat, and resembles somewhat a 
shaggy, brown dog. As wonderful stories are 
told of his cunning as of the intelligence and 
industry of the beaver. 

Longfellow, in his " Song of Hiawatha," 
makes frequent allusion to the beaver; and 
the accompanying picture illustrates an inci- 
dent in the sixth division of that poem, which 
is thus described : — 



" Once as down that foaming river, 
Down the rapids of Pauwating, 
Kwasind sailed with his companions, 
In the stream he saw a beaver, 
Saw Ahmeek, the King of Beavers, 
Struggling with the rushing currents, 
Rising, sinliing in the water. 

" Without speaking, without pausing, 
Kwasind leaped into the river, 
Plunged beneath the bubbling surface, 
Through the whirlpools chased the beaver. 
Followed him among the islands, 
Staid so long beneath the water, 
That his terrified companions 
Cried, ' Alas ! good by to Kwasind ! 
We shall never moi'e see Kwasind ! ' 
But he reappeared triumphant. 
And upon his shining shoulders 
Brought the beaver, dead and dripping, 
Brought the King of all the Beavers. 

" And these two, as I have told you. 
Were the friends of Hiawatha, 
Chibiabos, the musician, 
And the very strong man, Kwasind. 
Long they lived in peace together, 
Spake with naked hearts together, 
Pondering much and much contriving 
How the tribes of men might prosper." 

And further on in the poem, in the seven- 
teenth division, is a story of the beaver, which 
is too long to be copied here, but which we 
recommend our young friends to read. 




LITTLE BUILDERS. 



213 



LITTLE BUILDERS. 
II. TERMITES. 

LET us suppose ourselves to be resting in 
a South African plain, under the shadow 
of some sheltering rock, or lofty palm. You 
look around in weariness of spirit; when sud- 
denly your attention is attracted by a row of 
columns standing clear and distinct against 
the horizon, like the dwarf pillars of a pygmy 
temple. 

Approach these apparent columns, these 
seeming relics of a Lilliputian palace, and to 
your surprise you discover that they " are not 
what they seem ; " that neither axe nor chisel 
has ever wrought upon them ; that never were 
they designed or executed by man. To your 
astonishment, you find them to have been 
reared under the hot African sun by a nation 
oi insects — a nation well entitled to share 
with the beavers and other claimants the honor 
of having been among the first builders. Yes ; 
you are standing in wonder before the work 
of the so-called -vliiic anls, the terrible ter- 
mites I 

Although the beaver is a wonderful little 
builder, the termites are more artistic archi- 
tects, and produce an edifice more pictu- 
resque and ornamental, as well as much 
larger and more imposing. These insects 
are not properly ants, though in their habits 
they closely resemble them, and are seldom 
found except within the tropics. A portion 
of them are provided with wings, though 
they use them only once. Like the ants, 
they are very industrious, and achieve the 
most astonishing results by their labors, so 
ingenious as to seem more like the woik of 
intellect than mere instinct. 

Like the bees they are divided into three 
classes — males, females, and neuters, or work- 
ers. They live together in communities, which 
appear to be as well-ordered as any societv of 
men. They are exceedingly destructive to 
wood-work, and are a pest to mankind, though 
they have their uses in the economy of nature, 
one of which is to serve as food for birds, 
reptiles, and other ants. The most notable 
species is the fermes bellicosus, which is the 
largest and most destructive of its kind. 
These insects are also the most distinguished 
as builders, and sometimes erect houses six- 
teen or seventeen feet high, and about the 
same in diameter at the base. These edifices 
are built of clay, tempered by some myste- 
rious chemical process in the jaws of the in- 




HOME OF THE TeRMITES. 

sect, and are nearly as firm and hard as the 
solid granite. They are so strong that, though 
honeycombed with galleries, and filled with 
chambers, they will support the weight of an 
African buffalo, which often climbs upon it in 
order to examine the distant plain, to detect 
the approach of the lion or other savage beast 
of prey. Beneath the conic structure there are 
subterranean excavations, full of wells, cham- 
bers, and galleries, quite as wonderful as those 
in the house itself. The builders of these re- 
markable abodes are only one fifth of an inch 
in length, and, compared with the size of the 
insects, they are infinitely more grand and im- 
posing than any structure erected by man. not 
excepting the pyramfds. 

Every termite community is founded by a 
king and queen, which take their flight from 
some other establishment; and thej' seem to 
be provided with wings solely for this single 
journey of their lifetime, for they never use 
them on any other occasion. As soon as they 
are perfectly matured in the parent home, 
they take their flight, usuall}' at the begin- 
ning of the rainy season. Though several 
thousand of them may start, only a few, per- 
haps not more than one pair in a thousand, 
will survive the journey, for their wings are 
exceedingly fragile. A single pair of them, 
overcoming the perils of the flight, takes to 
the earth at a point to which their instinct 
conducts them, and being of a royal race, 
they immediately receive the homage of the 
inferior order of their species, which at this 
period are on the lookout for '• the powers 
that be." 

The termites present some remarkable pecu- 
liarities in their development from the larvae, 



314 



LITTLE BUILDERS, 



or eggs. Only a small proportion of them at- 
tain to the dignity of the perfect insect; and 
these, having wings, are the kings and queens, 
whose purpose of existence is to found new 
colonies. The males which do not attain to 
this perfect state of being are the soldiers, as 
they are called, distinguished by their im- 
mense heads and strong jaws. The females 
which are not perfectly developed are the 
workers. As under safe governments of the 
human race, where prudence tolerates only a 
small number of soldiers, because they are 
dangerous to the liberties of the people, na- 
ture has adjusted the proportion in the wisest 
and most secure manner, providing only about 
one soldier to every hundred workers. 

As soon as the royal pair have alighted at 
their destination, the workers surround them, 
and actually take possession of them accord- 
ing to their mode of rendering homage to the 
sovereign power, and immediately install them 
in their new quarters. Their future residence, 
which it appears is also the royal mausoleum, 
consists of a chamber, built by the indus- 
trious insects around their majesties. In this 
tenement of clay, they are not only the sove- 
reigns, but the parents of their future subjects. 
The king and queen lose their wings, and a 
most remarkable change begins to take place 
in the latter. While her head, chest, and legs 
remain in their former condition, the abdomen 
increases in size, till this organ seems to be 
all there is of her; in fact the owner becomes 
as large as a man's finger, and her majesty is 
utterly unable to move. In this condition she 
begins to lay her eggs, producing them to the 
astounding extent of eighty thousand in a 
single day. 

The parent pair, in their original state, are 
larger than the workers ; and their chamber is 
provided with a great number of doors, or 
openings, which are just large enough to 
admit the passage of the subjects, but too 
small for the egress of the king or queen, 
even if the latter were physically able to 
move. As fast as she lays her eggs, the 
workers carry them away from her and de- 
posit them in the smaller chambers or nurse- 
ries which are prepared beforehand, and which 
are reached by the numerous galleries, all of 
them being connected with a central passage- 
way. They are small, irregularly-shaped 
apartments, which, with the galleries and 
store-houses, fill the entire structure. The 
royal chamber is nearly on a level with the 
surface of the ground. It has a vaulted ceil- 
ing, pierced with round windows, and a 
smooth, level floor. Around it are the offices, 




Native destroying a Hill. 

if they may be called by such a name, which 
are vaulted chambers, connected by corridors, 
and occupied by the attendants of the royal 
pair. Next to the shell, or walls of the house, 
are located the store-rooms, providently' filled 
with gums, vegetable juices, and other mate- 
rials used in the process of building. Above 
this lower story, supported on pillars two feet 
high, is the floor on which the nurseries are 
placed. The partitions between them are 
made of particles of wood, cemented together 
with gum. Over these egg depositories is a 
lofty apartment, occupying the apex of the 
conic house, and about one third of its entire 
height. 

The exterior crust of the building is about 
twenty inches in thickness. As may be seen 
in the illustration, it appears to be covered 
with turrets, or small domes. Several of 
these formations, much smaller and entirely 
detached from the principal ones, are de- 
picted, but the larger ones were formerly of 
no greater magnitude. Several of these in- 
ferior mounds were first built, until a group 
of them was collected. The central one was 
always kept higher than the others, and all 
were increased as the demands for additional 
space required. Then the intelligent insects 
began to connect them at the base, filling up 
anj' openings made in the shell, till the whole 
were merged into one, with only the summits 
of the originals to indicate their former sepa- 
! rate state. The interior appears to undergo 



LITTLE BUILDERS. 



3Ii 



repeated modifications, until the lodgers there- 
in are suitably accommodated. 

Tlie eggs are carefully watched over in the 
chambers till they are hatched, and then the 
young termites are tenderlj' nursed till they 
are able to take care of themselves. The king 
and queen seem to live lives of inglorious ease, 
without making any use of their regal power, 
and the vast community governs itself with- 
out interference from the ruling powers, all 
the soldiers and workers performing their 
various duties without direction or compul- 
sion. They know how to do everything, and 
when to do it. It is thought that two or three 
years are required for the full development of 
the insect from the egg, though any such 
statistics must necessarily be rather question- 
able. In due time, be it long or short, the eggs 
are hatched, and a new generation of kings 
and queens appears, attended by the vast 
swarms of soldiers and workers. Choosing 
the most unsuitable time in the whole year, as 
it woold appear to our fallible wisdom, the 
royal termites fly away upon their single life 
journey, to found a new colony. The vast 
number that perish in the attempt to do so, 
pi-oves conclusively that only a few are born 
to reign, or even to be the parents of one of 
these stupendous families. 

The humbler myriads in the home of their 
birth are crowded out by the multiplication of 
the species, and these in turn are compelled to 
look up a royal pair in order to establish a 
new household. The process is repeated, over 
and over again, until, if prudent nature did 
not provide for their extirpation in the fulfil- 
ment of the ends of their being, all Africa 
would become but a vast ant-hill. The wing- 
less ones are much used by the natives, and 
even by some Europeans, as an article of food, 
and are eaten roasted like coffee. 

The workers are always employed, and are 
exceedingly lively in their movements. As 
"walkists" they make splendid time. The 
soldiers, as becomes their profession, are very 
savage, and their bite is severe and painful, 
though not dangerous to a healthy person. 
When they fasten to anything or anybody, 
they adhere to it with the tenacity of a bull- 
dog, and will be torn in pieces rather than re- 
lease their hold. 

The termites, as before observed, aie ex- 
ceedingly destructive, and nothing but iron 
and stone is safe from their ravages. The en- 
tire wood-work of A iiouse has been known to 
be rendered useless by tiieir attacks in a single 
season. They work in the dark, and, in the 
most cunning manner, keep out of sight while 



they carry on their destructive labors ; and 
often before their presence is suspected they 
complete their work. With the sharp instru- 
ment with which nature supplies their jaws 
they bore through the floor of a house to the 
leg of a table or chair, up which they tunnel 
a path for themselves, and actually move all 
through the wood-work of the article, wasting 
and destroying as they go, eating to within 
the thickness of a piece of paper of the exte- 
rior surface, but never breaking through it. 
The piece of furniture in this condition seems 
to be as perfect as ever; but li: the slightest 
application of force, it falls to pieces. This 
may happen to everj' article in a room, and 
each in its turn crumble into dust upon the 
floor in the presence of the astonished owner. 
A whole staircase has been known to yield, 
and almost vanish into thin air, at the first 
touch of a footstep. A stake in the garden, a 
plank laid on a bed, and large trees, from 
the roots to the remotest branches, are rid- 
dled, even while they show no signs of the 
destroyer on the surface. A man, accidentally 
slipping on a staircase, grasped an oak post 
for support, but buried his hand to the wrist 
in the tunnelled wood, which the termites had 
invaded. Some boxes of documents were at- 
tacked by the insects, which mined a passage 
to them through the wainscoting of the room. 
They devoured the papers without regard to 
their official character, leaving the upper 
sheets, and tlie margins of each, so that, on 
opening the boxes, the files seemed to be in 
perfect condition, though there was really 
" nothing but a shell," a mass of rubbish, in 
them. 

It will be acknowledged that the termites are 
excellent workmen and skilful little builders; 
but we have reason to be thankful that such 
unscrupulous laborers are not domiciled in 
our own land. They belong to that class of 
operatives whose works we prefer to admire at 
a safe distance. As builders they are worthy 
of something more than mere admiration, for 
they teach us an important lesson in the art of 
building. They build strongly and securely, 
with but little regard to mere ornament, and 
we may prudently imitate their example. 



2l6 



ox THE WAR PATH. 



/C^ • *f 






i i 



. / •'-" 



^ ^^ 



^ ^"1- 






'-- -, |. ^ ^-s 



?i: 










They were lying flat upon the Ground, close to a fallen Tree." Page 220. 
m THE ¥AK PATH. 



BY J. H. W. 

TV TY grandfather had two neighbors who 
-*-'-■- enlisted with him to serve in Rogers' 
Rangers, during the old French and Indian 
war. In those days the neighbors in newlj- 
settled regions were not many, and all who 
lived within a radius of half a dozen miles 
were reckoned as such. These two were lo- 
cated so near to my grandfather's clearing 
that he was more intimate with them than 
with some others. They were young men, who 
had started in life somewhat like himself; and, 



son — one of the two neighbors I have alluded 
to — made a prisoner. The other neighbor's 
name was Warner. The Rangers were to the 
westward of Lake George, and had been out 
for some days on a scouting expedition. They 
were returning to the main body of the Eng- 
lish forces, and had encamped at night so near 
that they could rejoin them by an easy half- 
day's march. 

Having seen no indication of any foe being 
near for some time, they relaxed their usual 
vigilance so much that they remained in camp 
longer than usual the next morning, that they 
might amuse and improve themselves by prac- 



being similarly situated, and worthy of each i tice in firing at targets. When they finally 



other's respect, it was natural that they should 
have a strong friendship for each other. 

The Rangers, the first summer my grand- 
father was with them, were a part of the time 
in the wilderness around Lake George, acting 
as scouts for the regular army, counteracting 
the designs of the red allies of the French by 
craft and cunning equal to their own. They 
were almost always on detached service, and, 
of course, met with more peril and adventure 
than if they had been regular troops. 

My father used to like to tell a story, which 
grandfather had told to him, of how the Ran- 
gers were surprised one morning, and Robin- 



started, it was in a long, single line, one man 
following another, in a style called " Indian 
file." 

The line was so long, that the last men had 
not shouldered their packs, when a rattling 
volley was heard from the front, accompanied 
by the well-known warwhoop, followed by 
a weak, scattering fire from the Rangers. 

Surprised as they were, the Rangers were 
frightened, and unable to make any effectual 
resistance; and, instead of standing their 
ground, they turned and fled, shouting to the 
others to save themselves, for thej' were sui-- 
rounded. 



ON THE WAR PATH. 



217 



At first thought this might seem like mere 
cowardice ; but a second thought will show that 
no coward would have enlisted for such a ser- 
vice as the Rangers were required to perform. 
These men understood at once just how they 
were placed; and they were not so anxious for 
a glorious death as to stand between two fires, 
to be inevitably shot down and scalped. 

Taking advantage of their carelessness, a 
large party of Indians had got so near that 
they had been able to form an ambush almost 
in sight of the camp, where such a thing would 
have been least expected. They had placed 
themselves in a heater form, as my father ex- 
pressed it; that is, in two lines diverging from 
a point, somewhat like the letter V ; and when 
the Rangers started, they marched in between 
these lines, clear up to the point, before the 
Indians fired upon them. Every Indian was 
concealed behind a protecting ti-ee ; but, be- 
ing between the two lines, it would have been 
impossible for the Rangers to have concealed 
themselves ; and they could only remain to be 
shot down, or run. And they would have 
been very foolish, indeed, not to do the last. 

When the men turned back, the Indians fol- 
lowed them, filling the woods with their wild 
■whoops, and swiftly tearing off" the scalps of 
those who had fallen. Rogers, bareheaded, 
and almost frantic at the sight of his fleeing 
men, shouted out his commands and entrea- 
ties that they should make a stand, and re- 
pulse the pursuing foe. Rushing to the front, 
he came so near to the enemy that a huge In- 
dian was tempted to rush forward and grasp 
him by his belt, uttering in his guttural way 
as he did so, — 

" Big debble, now me got ye ! " 

But he was mistaken, for Rogers's quick 
knife divided the belt, and, dealing the Indian 
a thrust as he leapt away from him, he es- 
caped, and succeeded at last in bringing his 
men to a stand. 

Two or three of the foremost men in the line 
had been grasped by the Indians in the same 
way, and'had not been so fortunate in escap- 
ing; and one of them was Robinson. These 
men were hurried to the rear of the attacking 
party, and securely bound; not with any in- 
tention of keeping them prisoners very long, 
but to give the savages an opportunity of test- 
ing their endurance by some of their torturous 
practices before putting them to death. 

Rogers's men were not the ones to be easily 
beaten in a fair fight; and when they had come 
to a stand, and were sheltered behind the trees, 
in Indian fashion, they fought for some hours, 
their bullets telling on every exposed head or 



limb of an Indian that could be seen. Many 
a red man was stretched in death ; and some 
of the scouts were also brought low. But the 
attacking party finally yielded the ground, re- 
treating from tree to tree so cautiously that 
their absence could only be known by the 
slackening fire. 

Strange as it may seem, the Indians man- 
aged to get away all their dead out of imme- 
diate reach of their foe. Even while the shots 
were rattling the fastest, the fallen bodies 
would be spirited away, as it were, the Ran- 
gers seeing them sliding along the ground to 
the rear, drawn, probably, by lines that had 
been attached to them so stealthily that none 
had been discovered in the act of approaching 
or leaving them. 

The Rangers pressed after the retreating 
Indians till they had driven them some dis- 
tance, and then turned back to look after those 
who had fallen. It was then that they learned 
who and how many were carried away prison- 
ers. It was not likely that any were absent 
unless they were prisoners; and there were 
four men missing, besides those who were ly- 
ing upon the ground. Rogers decided at once 
that the enemy must be pursued, and those 
men rescued. 

It would not be safe for the Rangers to rush 
forward as they might have done in an open 
country, for by so doing they might again ex- 
pose themselves as they had done in the morn- 
ing. It was necessary to move cautiously, 
sending scouts ahead, to make sure of the 
course the savages had taken, and to prevent 
being again surprised. Warner and my grand- 
father were allowed to go ahead, their impa- 
tience on account of their friend leading them 
to request it as a favor from their commander. 

It was soon evident that the savages were 
in haste, probably owing to the near proximity 
of the main body of the English armj'. And 
when this fact had been ascertained beyond a 
doubt, the whole bod}' of the Rangers moved 
forward rapidly for a while in pursuit. 

Warner and my grandfather kept in advance, 
though never getting even a glimpse of the 
retreating savages. But there was no diiBculty 
in following the broad, fresh trail the^' made. 
No doubt the scouts of the enemy were also 
watching them ; and it occurred to them at 
last that it was hardly probable that tlu-y 
would make any halt so long as the pursuit 
was so close. Perhaps, after all, their pur- 
pose of overtaking them would be best accom- 
plished by strategy; and it was decided to 
relinquish the pursuit apparently. 

Accordingly, the main body of the Rangers 



2l8 



ON THE WAR PATH. 



returned a little way, till they found a good 
camping-ground, where they made prepara- 
tion as if to pass the night, and began to cook 
their supper. The scouts, also, made a feint 
of turning back, but were soon again on the 
trail, that they might keep informed of the 
movements of the enemy. 

After dark, the Rangers left their fires burn- 
ing, and moved silentlj- forward again. The 
scouts brought them word, after the}' had been 
on the march some two hours, that the In- 
dians had finally halted, apparently to pass 
the night. My grandfather and Warner had 
both seen them ; and they were fearful, from 
the preparation that was going on, that the 
prisoners would be put to death before the 
main body of the Rangers could come up with 
them. They hurried forward, therefore, as 
fast as they could through the dark forest, 
guided by the men who had been before them. 

They had several miles to go before they 
came in sight of the Indians' fires, which were 
in a hollow, that prevented their being seen 
till quite closely approached. Then a halt 
was made to reconnoitre, and decide in what 
way they could best attack them. 

By the light of the fires the dusky forms of 
the Indians could be seen, some of them busied 
in preparations for the torture of their pris- 
oners, and some replenishing the fires, while 
a large party seemed to be engaged in council. 
At first they thought that all the prisoners 
were still alive. They could see two of them 
very plainly, lying bound upon the ground, 
not far from two small trees, near to which a 
quantity of brush had been piled, and where 
several of the Indians were evidently prepar- 
ing small pitch-pine splints, such as it was 
their custom to stick in the bodies of the pris- 
oners whom they burned at the stake. But in 
a moment more they were struck with horror ; 
for, on looking around for the other two pris- 
oners, they saw them raised above the ground, 
their outstretched limbs bound to the tops of 
four strong saplings, which were bent towards 
them, and under the body of each a brush-fire 
was blazing, the flames ascending so far as to 
touch their bodies without fairly enveloping 
them. It was such a mode of torture as they 
had never seen or heard of being practised, 
and for a moment they were horrified by it. It 
seemed impossible that the victims could re- 
main silent while enduring such suffering as 
those flames must produce, and the quick 
conclusion was that both were already dead. 

It was hardly more than a minute that they 
looked upon this scene, 3'et it was sufficient 
for them to see and understand it all. An oath 



was on Rogers's lips, and he was about to swear 
the direst vengeance on those who could per- 
petrate such cruelty, when, suddenly, the In- 
dians all sprang to the different fires, scatter- 
ing and extinguishing them in an instant, 
and all was buried in darkness. Not a sound 
was heard in that wide forest, and but for the 
glimmering sparks and dying brands, that still 
glowed faintly, it would have seemed as if 
what they had been looking upon was some 
optical illusion, which had been destroyed by 
a passing breath of air. But as quickly as the 
scene had disappeared, those men knew that 
their near presence had been discovered. 

It was a hazardous thing, perhaps; but 
Rogers at once gave the order for his men to 
deploy and charge, in the hope of at least res- 
cuing the two remaining prisoners. His men 
all carried rifles without baj'onets, and, of 
course, little more was expected to result from 
the charge than the scattering of the Indians 
so suddenly as to prevent their carr^'ing away 
the prisoners with them ; though in a close 
encounter the knives which the men carried 
would be quite as effective, perhaps, as would 
be the bayonets of regular troops. 

At the word, the men rushed forward, rais- 
ing such a shout as had never resounded 
through those woods before. But no note of 
defiance came in reply ; and when they reached 
the ground where the Indians had been, they 
swept over it unopposed, meeting no solitary- 
form. Warner and my grandfather had rushed 
straight for where they had seen the prisoners ; 
but when they reached the spot, they, too, 
were gone ! 

Having passed completely over the ground, 
and to some distance beyond, Rogers halted 
his men, not knowing which way to go. The 
Indians had completely baffled him. In the 
darkness of the night he could not trace them ; 
and a light must be procui-ed, at least, to ena- 
ble him to do so. And a light would serve to 
expose his men to a lurking foe before it would 
reveal that foe's hiding-place. It was better, 
therefore, to remain in darkness till the rising 
sun should give thein an equal chance. Stand- 
ing there, listening for any sound of those who 
had disappeared, the dark forest was as silent 
as though no human being had ever passed 
beneath its solemn arches. The Indians 
seemed, indeed, to have vanished by enchant- 
ment; and the minds of the inenwere affected 
by a sort of fear they had never before expe- 
rienced. 

But they had no doubt they would find the 
bodies of the men they had seen roasting over 
the fires; and they returned noiselessly to 



ON THE WAR PATH, 



219 



look for them. Indeed they were there. A 
smell of burned flesh pervading the air around 
guided the scouts directly to them ; and the 
scorched and crisped bodies were cut from the 
straining saplings that held them, and laid 
upon the ground. A dying brand was fanned 
into flame, and held over the pain-distorted 
faces, to discover who they were. They were 
liardly recognizable, but neither of them was 
Robinson's; and the assurance was some re- 
lief to my grandfather's mind; for, though 
he could hardly hope that his friend would 
escape, so long as he was alive there was a 
chance that he might ; and the slightest chance 
was better than would be the certainty that he 
was dead. Nothing could be done except to 
guard against an attack from the Indians, till 
daylight should come again ; and, retiring si- 
lently to a safer place, a circle of guards were 
stationed, and the others laid themselves down 
to sleep. 

The silence of the night remained unbroken, 
except by the occasional cry of some wakeful 
animal, or the rustling of wind-stirred leaves; 
and with the dawn of light all the men were 
on their feet again, inspecting their arms, and 
making hasty preparation for the renewed 
pursuit of the savages. The search for their 
trail showed that they had moved off to the 
left, or westward, instead of going directly 
from the approaching, foe, as would naturally 
be supposed. The trail having been found, 
it was easily followed; and, keeping scouts 
in advance, to warn the main body of any im- 
pending danger, they went through the woods 
at a quick pace, every one being eager to over- 
take the retreating savages. There was little 
probability, to be sure, of recovering the pris- 
oners alive; but every one was eager to get 
again within rifle-shot of those who had car- 
ried them away to such cruel torment, that 
they might at least avenge them. 

They went forward rapidly for several hours ; 
when, seeing nothing to indicate that they 
were any nearer to the retreating party than 
they had been at first, Rogers intimated that 
the circumstances would not justify any farther 
pursuit, and ordered a halt, for a short rest, 
before starting to return. 

The disappointment of some of the men 
was shown by the remarks they made in their 
commander's hearing; whereupon Rogers, 
having remained silent till they had freely 
expressed their opinions, turned to them, and 
said that his duty would not allow him to go 
farther; but if Warner, to whom he now ad- 
dressed himself directly, from his having 
expressed his mind the most freely, chose to 



go on alone, and lose his scalp, he might do 
so. Of course he did not think that Warner 
would take him at his word ; and he was a 
little surprised when the bold fellow replied 
that he felt grateful for the permission given, 
and that he might be assured he would bring 
back the prisoners, or the scalps of two full- 
grown Indians instead. Rogers was not the 
man to take back what he had said; and, find- 
ing that Warner was really in earnest, he told 
him he might select a man to go with him, 
thinking, probably, that two men would be 
safer than one in following an enemy. My 
grandfather was ready to improve this oppor- 
tunity, being as ready as Warner to continue 
the pursuit, even alone. 

Accordingly, after having refreshed them- 
selves, they two continued on the trail, and 
had gone scarce a hundred yards before they 
were out of sight of their comrades, who, 
soon after they had disappeared, turned in the 
opposite direction, and retraced their steps 
towards the English fort. 

Warner and my grandfather felt that they 
were running a great risk; and there can be 
no doubt but what they thought of the wives 
who were waiting for them at home, and of 
the little ones. But Robinson had a waiting 
wife and little ones also; and they did not 
forget that his love for them was likely to be 
as strong as their own love could be for theirs ; 
and they were resolved to risk their lives in 
this way for the chance, though small it was, 
of rescuing him, and enabling him to return 
home with them. 

The two men went forward swiftly but cau- 
tiously, in the shade of the overarching trees, 
seldom speaking to each other; and when they 
did, it was always in tones so low that they 
could have been heard but a few yards from 
them. They hardly halted more than a mo- 
ment at a time during the whole afternoon ; 
and the trail they followed grew so fresh to- 
wards night that they were assured they were 
overhauling the Indians, and that they could 
not be very far ahead of them. 

In that dark fo'-est the shades of night were 
gathering around them even before the sun 
had set. But when they thought they had 
seen the last rays of the great luminary for 
that day, they came suddenly in sight of an 
opening in the trees before them, and in anoth- 
er moment stood upon the bank of a shallow 
stream of water, of some twenty yards in 
breadth. The stream flowed from the west- 
ward directly towards them ; but where they 
struck it its course was turned southward, al- 
most at a right angle with its previous course. 



220 



ON THE WAR PATH. 



It seemed to come down in nearly a straight 
line from the west, the opening which it made 
between the trees enabling them to see the 
sun, now showering his last golden rajs full 
upon them, just descending behind a range 
of forest-covered hills. 

Those cheering rays, coming upon them so 
unexpectedly, at such an hour, inspired them 
with a belief that they would succeed in sav- 
ing their friends' life; and, filled with the sud- 
den faith, they stood almost indiiferent as to 
whether they were seen by any lurking foe, 
till the last inspiring ray was quenched by the 
dark gray hills before them. 

They knew that the Indians would be sure 
to improve such an opportunity to blind their 
trail. The water was" so shallow that one 
couldwade in it almost anywhere; and a very 
slight inspection showed that the Indians had 
entered it at the point where they stood. 
Whether they had gone up or down was a 
question they had no means of deciding with- 
out following; and they were perplexed as to 
which way they should go. After a little rea- 
soning, it seemed to them that the Indians 
would take the course which their pursuers 
would be most unlikely to follow, if their ob- 
ject was to escape from them altogether; and 
as that would be down the stream, they fol- 
lowed along its bank to the southward. They 
moved cautiously, looking warily around them 
at every few yards, for now they were more lia- 
ble than before to come upon a foe at any mo- 
ment. For the last hour before they had 
reached the stream, the trail had been as fresh 
as if just nnade ; and if the Indians had gone 
down it, they were confident they would come' 
upon them encamped not very far below. By 
the time they had gone a mile, it had got to 
be so dark that they could not distinguish ob- 
jects at any great distance, especially among 
the trees; and they were obliged to move even 
more cautiously than before. 

They were determined to come up with the 
savages, if possible, before resting; and they 
kept on, though the darkness made their way 
difficult and slow. At last they detected a 
faint glow of light, deep in the woods to the 
left; and, after watching it for a moment, they 
turned their steps in that direction. It was 
not so far off as they had expected. Suddenly 
they came in full view of an Indian camp, 
having ascended a slight ridge that hid it from 
view, and saw, as on the night before, several 
fires, with the Indians engaged in various ways 
around them. 

They looked for the prisoners, and were 
greatly relieved to see them still alive, sitting 



upright, with their arms bound behind them, 
and no preparation being made for their tor- 
ture, that they could discover. They could 
not account for this, except by supposing that 
the Indians had decided to reserve their pris- 
oners for some other purpose, or, perhaps, till 
they could invent some new manner of torture 
that they had never yet practised. 

It was a great relief to find that the prison- 
ers were alive, and, apparently, in no immedi- 
ate danger; and the. fact fully confirmed them 
in the belief that they would finally accom- 
plish their rescue. To attempt it openly 
would most certainly insure their own death; 
and they could only wait for some favorable 
opportunity to reach them without being ob- 
served. It was a fortunate circumstance, prob- 
ably, that the prisoners sat by themselves, so 
far from the fires that they were not in their 
full glare, and on the side nearest to the two 
scouts. 

Whatever fate was in reserve for the pris- 
oners, it was quite certain they were not to 
meet it that night. There were no fires burn- 
ing except those which the Indians were sit- 
ting around, and no preparation for any that 
could be seen. The scouts placed themselves 
where they would not be likely to be discov- 
ered, and remained, watching the movements 
of the Indians. They were lying flat upon 
the ground, close to the trunk of a fallen tree, 
with their heads raised above it, and had not 
been there very long before a solitary Indian 
— a guard, probably, to warn the others of the 
approach of an enemy — came up so noise- 
lessly that they hardly heard him, and sat 
down upon the fallen tree, not twenty feet 
from them. Had they been on. the other side 
of it, he would certainly have discovered them, 
for he sat with his face towards the fires, upon 
which he gazed for some time, a little too 
careless of what might be behind him to make 
a safe guard. The scouts hugged the log 
closely, hardlj' breathing, for fear that he 
might hear them. Verj' fortunately, there was 
no moon shining; and the bright rays of the 
fires would naturally blind the Indian's eyes 
to things that were so immediately in the shadr 
ow of the log. And so it happened that, after 
sitting for a time, the Indian got up and moved 
away as noiselessly as he had come, never 
seeing them. 

When he had gone, the scouts raised their 
heads again, and saw the fires burning low, 
and some of the Indians already stretching 
themselves out upon the ground, with their 
feet towards them, to sleep; two or three went 
away into the darkness, in different directions, 



ON THE WAR PATH, 



221 



with their arms in their hands, probably to 
increase the number of guards around the 
camp ; and others approached the prisoners, to 
make them more secure, it was soon evident, 
for the night. This was done by extending 
them upon the ground, with a pliant young 
sapling across the body of each. Four power- 
ful savages then laid themselves down bythe 
prisoners, upon the ends of the poles, making 
it impossible for them to attempt to rise with- 
out its being known. When the prisoners 
had been thus secured, the fires were replen- 
ished, so that they would not soon go out, 
and then all the other Indians that were in 
sight stretched themselves upon the ground 
around them to sleep. 

Warner and ray grandfather were fully sen- 
sible of their own perilous situation, and they 
could see little chance of releasing their friends 
without arousing those who were at their 
sides. While they watched the sleeping In- 
dians, and saw the fires burn out and sink 
to smouldering embers, they consulted togeth- 
er in whispers as to what they could do- 
There was but one way, and they would 
have avoided that way had it been possible. 
It was to creep upon those swarthy men who 
held the prisoners so securely between them, 
and plunge their knives into their hearts. They 
consulted long whether to do it. There was 
no alternative, except to creep away, beyond 
the guards, and leave the prisoners to their 
fate. That was not to be thought of; and they 
decided to do the first, though they well under- 
stood that unless their first blows were true, 
their own lives would pay the forfeit. They 
could only deal with two at a time; and even 
a slight rustling might disturb the others, and 
insure their own death. But they could not 
forsake their friends, and the attempt was re- 
solved on. They might be discovered by the 
guards, but they must venture. 

The fires had burned so low that the light 
they gave did not greatly endanger them, while 
it served to show them clearly where the pris- 
oners were. Hugging the ground closely, with 
their knives in their hands, — they had left 
their rifles by the side of the log, as being 
worse than useless at such a time, — they 
drew forward so slowly and cautiously that, 
even if any wakeful savage had been looking 
towards them, he would hardly have noticed 
them. 

They came within reach of their intended 
victims, each being at the side of one of the 
Indians who guarded Robinson. Robinson 
was awake ; and when they raised themselves 
that they might the better deal the fatal blows, 



they saw his eyes turned upon them. Though 
he recognized them, he remained motionless, 
understanding their purpose. Their knives 
were pointed at the lives of the two who were 
beneath them; and when Warner whispered, 
"Strike!" they descended, producing only a 
straightening of the forms and quivering of 
the muscles of those whom they touched. 
Without another whisper, they passed to the 
sides of the others, a few yards distant, and 
buried their knives in them in the same way, 
so silently that the prisoner, who was sleeping 
between them, did not awake. Bending down, 
Warner whispered the man's name in his ear, 
at the same time shaking him gently. In an 
instant he was aroused, and understood who 
was near him, and in another the pole that 
had held him prostrate was removed, his 
thongs were cut, and he was free. 

Instantly he had dealt the last blow, my 
grandfather returned to Robinson, and re- 
leased him. With only a whispered word of 
acknowledgment by the liberated man, the two 
crawled away together towards the fallen log. 
They all reached it safely; and, recovering the 
rifles, they crawled forward in the darkest 
depths of the woods, in the same way, till they 
felt sure they were beyond the Indian out- . 
posts, when they rose to their feet, and hur- 
ried forward by the same route over which 
they had come. They had at least half the 
night before them; and, as the Indians would 
not be likely to start in pursuit till daylight, 
if they should pursue at all, — of which they 
had some doubt, — they had little fear of being 
overtaken. 

Whether they were pursued or not, they 
never knew, for they reached the fort, and re- 
joined the Rangers, on the second morning 
after, without having seen any more Indians. 
And no one congratulated more heartily than 
did Rogers himself, who ever after entertained 
a high regard for both Warner and my grand- 
father, showing it on several occasions by send- 
ing them on expeditions which he would not 
willingly intrust to others of his command. 




A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 




• My Grandfather raised his Rifle, and fired." Page 222. 



A STOET OP TEE OLDEN TIME. 

BY J. H. W. 

'V'XT'HEN mj grandfather was twentj-one, 
' ' he married Marj Barnes, who was 
eighteen. This was a little more than one 
hundred and twenty years ago. 

Mary was the daughter of Squire Barnes, 
who lived in Brookfield ; and when my grand- 
father married her, he drew her home — a 
part of the way at least — on a hand-sled, 
over the frozen snow up into the wilderness 
ten miles north, where he had taken up land 
and built a log house, that he might have for 
himself and Mary a home. It would have 
been a lonely, solemn place for one alone; 
for there was nothing but a dark, silent forest 
around, and they were miles from any other 
settler. But being together, they passed a 
very pleasant winter, — having been married 
on New Year's; and when spring came, my 
grandfather had so large a clearing that he 
was able to begin the cultivation of a little 
land. 

It was somewhat romantic— the way in which 
they lived; but, after all, there are not many 
who would prefer to live so. The only neigh- 
bors they saw much of that first winter were the 
wild animals that lived in the forest around. 



They did not see them often in the day, 
though sometimes a fox would stop for a mo- 
ment to look at them, as he went past in the 
edge of the still uncut timber. But during 
the long hours of night they would often hear 
the voices of these forest neighbors breaking 
weirdly upon the solemn stillness; though, 
with strong walls around them, and shutters 
closed, and a wooden bar across the door, 
they had no reason to fear them. 

One night, however, they were a little fright- 
ened. The snows had fallen deep that winter, 
and had so drifted around the house that upon 
the back side, where there were no windows, 
it reached to the low eaves. They were sitting 
before the fire on the night I have in mind, 
talking of their future, — building little air- 
castles, as even married folks sometimes will, 
— and were all unmindful of anything but 
themselves, when, suddenly, they were star- 
tled by the sound of footsteps, moving cau- 
tiously upon the roof above them. 

Mary's heart leaped, and my grandfather's 
voice was instantly hushed. They listened, 
breathless, and heard those cautious footsteps 
moving about upon the roof. Who could it 
be ? Mary's first thought was, Indians ; and 
she whispered it to my grandfather. "No," 
he replied, "it cannot be Indians; they are 




THE FASHIONS OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME, 



235 



all at peace with us now, and there are none 
within a long way, except the Nipmucks, and 
of course we have nothing to fear from them. 
It cannot be Indians." 

In a moment more there seemed to be two 
persons moving about upon the roof, and they 
became bolder, and made more noise. Then 
my grandfather said he would find out what 
was there ; and though Mary strove to dis- 
suade him, he rose and took down his rifle, 
made sure that it was charged, unbarred the 
door, opened it, and went out. Though Mary 
would have prevented him, she would not let 
him go alone; and, taking vip the axe that 
was lying in a corner, she kept near to him. 

The moon was shining upon the white snow, 
making it so light that they could see every- 




Leaving home to fight the Indians. 

thing about the house distinctly. Going but 
a few steps in front of it, they were enabled to 
see two large wolves, standing with their fore- 
feet upon the ridge, looking at them as if they 
wondered who they were. Without a word, 
or a moment's hesitation, my grandfather 
raised his rifle, and fired,— eftectually quieting 
the curiosity of one of them, and so frighten- 
ing the other that he suddenly disappeared. 

My grandfather drew down the dead one, 
and placed him where he would not freeze till 
morning, as he wished to save his skin; and 
then they passed the remainder of the night 
undisturbed. 

Wolves were very common in the forests in 
those times; and not only wolves, but bears. 
I"; 



My grandfather had a way of taking these last , 
in pits, which he dug, and covered slightly, so 
that they would not be noticed ; then formed 
a triangular enclosure leading to them, and 
placed a tempting bait so that it could be 
reached only by going over the pit. But he 
did not spend much time in this way till he 
had got his little farm well started, and had 
cornfields, which the bears used to like to 
visit. The bears did not trouble him much at 
first, and he did not mind them much. 

My grandfather had been married but a few 
years when the French and Indian war broke 
out; and then, with two or three more young 
men who had settled within a few miles of 
him, he enlisted in a company known as 
Roger's Rangers, and went towards Canada 
to fight the Indians. It was hard for Mary to 
part with him, to go on such a dangerous ser- 
vice, far away into the wilderness, where she 
could not hear from him for months together; 
but she said he might go, and she would take 
care of the children and of the little farm 
alone while he was away. They had two chil- 
dren then, a girl and a boy; little Alice, the 
oldest, being about five years of age. 

M}"- grandfather finished the " spring's 
work" before he went away; that is, he had 
the corn planted, and all the crops that he in- 
tended to raise that season fairly started. 
Mary thought she could attend to the cultiva- 
tion of them alone, and do the most of the 
harvesting in the fall. She had a cow, and a 
horse, or a mare, rather, — but a mare is a 
horse, I suppose, — and two nice shotes. She 
was sure she could take care of these, and hoe 
and harvest the crops, all but the hay; and a 
neighbor, who was not going to the war, 
agreed to do the haying, and assist her in 
anything she could not accomplish herself. 

So my grandfather kissed Mary and the 
children, one bright morning, swung his knap- 
sack upon his back, shouldered his rifle, and 
took the path through the woods that led to 
the rendezvous where he was to join the oth- 
ers who were going with him. Then Mary 
sat down in her op^n doorway, feeling as if 
her pleasant home had suddenly become des- 
olate. Her nearest neighbor, and the one who 
was going to do the haying, was a mile away, 
and there were none, except her children, 
whom she could see, or to whorh she could 
speak, without going that distance. Of course 
she loved my grandfather very much, or she 
would never have gone up into the wilderness 
with him in the way she did; and now that 
he was gone, she feared that she would never 
see him again alive, and her heart was verjy 



226 



A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



■ heavy. But she was not a woman to repine 
long — to sit and weep when it would do no 
good; and, rising up, she kissed the children 
in a way she had never kissed them before, 
and went about her work. 

The summer passed away, and Mary accom- 
plished all that she had proposed to do. Win- 
ter came on, but it found her well prepared. 
The neighbor, Captain Green, had got the hay, 
assisted her some in harvesting the other 
crops, killed and packed one of the shotes in 
her pork barrel, and had cut and drawn to her 
door a great pile of wood, enough to last her 
all winter. She had heard from my grand- 
father several times, and knew that he had 
been frequently imperilled by skirmishes with 
the Indians, and once had narrowly escaped 
being captured by them ; but she did not know 
when she might expect his return, and thought 
it probable he might be gone all winter. 

The snows came early, and they soon accu- 
mulated to a great depth. I think there is no 
question but that they had more snow in those 
old times than we have now. Even since I 
can remember, the snows used to be deeper 
and remain longer than they do now; at least 
it seems so to me. But Mary had everything 
she needed close at hand; and after every 
storm, Captain Green would come with his ox- 
team, to break out a road to her house, and 
learn how she was getting along. 

The cold was severe, also, that winter, and 
it is probable that the wild animals in the 
Woods suffered some in consequence. One 
night, about the last of December, Mary was 
sitting before her cheerful fire, all alone, the 
children having been snugly tucked away in 
their little bed. It must have been past nine 
o'clock; but how late it was, Mary had no 
means of knowing. She had no clock; and 
only when the sun shone could she tell the 
yiour it marked upon the pewter dial that was 
nailed upon the top of a post before the house. 

Mary sat before the fire that night, not 
asleep, but dreaming. Perhaps some would 
say musing, but I call it dreaming; for she 
Was almost unconscious of the thoughts that 
came and went as she sat motionless, looking 
into the glowing embers of the sinking fire. 
Now and then they would flicker up into new 
flame, and sink again, showing her many 
shapes and forms, as it were, among which 
she could see red-coated troops, gray-clothed 
rangers, and swarthy savages, with the bright- 
colored blankets, that had been used to buy 
them over to the enemy, around their shoul- 
ders. She could see the gleam of muskets, 
sometimes in long lineis, and then in the hands 



of those who were stealthily approaching to 
ambush some unsuspecting party who were 
sitting carelessly around their camp-fires. The 
muskets would rattle, the startled men would 
spring to their feet, in the midst of a cloud of 
smoke, which enveloped them so quickly that 
she could never learn their fate. Such were 
the things which Mary saw in the dying fire, 
and which held her entranced, because, among 
those forms that came and went, she so often 
recognized my grandfather. 

It may be that she was almost asleep, — yet 
I do not think she was quite, — when she was 
startled by a sound that made her heart leap, 
and instantly aroused all her drowsy senses. 
The sound came from the stable ; and it was 
the voice of the mare, raised in such a cry of 
terror as she had never heard before. It was 
one fearful shriek, breaking wildly into the 
silence of the night, which was the same again 
as soon as it was uttered. 

Mary sat motionless and almost breathless, 
waiting a repetition of the fearful sound. A 
moment passed, and another wild cry of terror 
raised her, without any conscious effort of her 
own, to her feet. But she moved no farther, 
standing as motionless and breathless as be- 
fore. A third cry soon came ; but Mary could 
hear no other sound, and she stood still, won- 
dering what it could be that so frightened her 
mare, but fearing to go out to see. 

She stood, irresolute what to do ; but no 
more sounds came, till perhaps five minutes 
had passed; and then the cry was not from 
Jennie, but from her sow, which she had left 
at sundown reposing in her sty, a little lean-to 
structure built against one end of the barn. 
In a moment her quick mind comprehended 
the situation. That prolonged squeal — it was 
still piercing the night-air — told that some 
prowler of the forest had been trying to enter 
the stable, thus frightening the mare; but, 
having failed in that, had finally found the 
warm sty of her sow, and intruded therein, for 
the purpose, of course, of taking the life of, 
and satisfying its hunger on, the porcine dame. 
It was all clear now, and she hesitated no 
longer what to do. 

The night was dark, for clouds had been 
gathering, and she had said to herself, when 
she was doing her chores, that more snow was 
coming. But, without minding the darkness, 
she unbarred the door, grasped the axe, and 
went out, carefully closing the door behind 
her. The cries of her sow were urgent, and 
she sped towards the rail enclosure that sur- 
rounded the sty, over which she clambered, 
and stood bj' the low door — to enter which 



A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



227 



wou.d imperil her life. She hesitated, and 
could see no way to help the poor animal, 
whose calls were growing fainter with every 
expiring breath. She could at least avenge 
her death ; and she waited by the low door, 
with upraised axe, till the forest prowler should 
appear. 

The cries ceased, and for a time there was a 
shuffling and " suffling," showing that ttie ani- 
mal, whatever it was, was gorging itself upon 
the body of its victim. At last this ceased, 
and then a dark form emerged suddenly 
through the door. The ready axe descended, 
and the dark form settled and remained at 
Mary's feet. But another followed, so quickly 
that she had not time to raise her axe for a 
second blow before it leaped the fence and was 








EfeTW' 




pj w j'l" ^ ^ 



" She stood irresolute." 

gone. The}' were wolves, she was sure; but 
it was so dark that she could not see them 
plainly. The strength that had supported her 
seemed almost gone; and, without delaying 
another moment, she got back over the fence, 
and returned into the house, dropping the 
cross-bar into its sockets when she had closed 
the door, and sunk down by her children's 
bedside. Then she sought new strength from 
a Source that never fails; and having found 
it, she made her usual preparations, and re- 
tired for the night. 

The next morning, before daylight had ap- 
peared, the fire was crackling and blazing 
upon her hearth, and she was busied in pre- 
paring her own and the children's breakfast. 



The daylight was longer in coming on account 
of the thick clouds; but, as soon as she could 
see outside, she went to the scene of the last 
night's conflict, and there she saw a large, 
gaunt wolf, lying stark and stiff, just as he 
had fallen by her axe. Looking within the 
sty, she saw her sow, also stift* and cold, but 
not so badly mangled as she had expected. If 
she could but get Captain Green and his man 
to come over, they could still save the greater 
part of it, and her loss would not be so great; 
and, though a storm was threatening, she re- 
solved to start for his house as soon as she 
should have cared for her other animals, and 
given the children their breakfast. 

She seldom left the children alone longer 
than it was necessary for her to be engaged 
at the barn; but Alice was old enough, she 
thought, to be safely left in charge of Benny 
till she could go to her neighbor's and return; 
and she set out as early as possible, not ex- 
pecting to be away more than two hours at 
the longest. An hour would have been suffi- 
cient, had the walking been good; but only a 
sled track had been made through the deep 
snow, and her progress would be slow and 
difficult. 

The clouds were white and fleecy, and hang- 
ing low; and hardly had she left her door, be- 
fore the snow-flakes began to fall, drifting 
before a light wind that was coming from the 
eastward. She hurried, that she might return 
before the storm should be very bad; and it 
was but a few moments till she was out of 
sight of her house, the snow-flakes coming 
thicker and thicker, and the wind rapidly in- 
creasing in force. The walking was hard, and 
the falling snow, drifting across and settling 
into the track, was making it continually 
harder. But she hurried forward, till she was 
finally compelled to stop for a moment through 
sheer exhaustion. Then she realized more 
clearly how fast the storm was increasing. 
The air was so filled with the driving snow, 
that she could see nothing beyond a few yards 
from her, and the track had filled so fast 
that it was hardly distinguishable. Turning 
to look towards home, from which direction 
the storm came, she was so blinded by it that 
she could see nothing clearly, and she was 
frightened. 

Then Mary would have returned ; but she 
was sure she had gone more than two thirds 
of the distance, and it would be easier to reach 
Captain Green's than to go back. She doubt- 
ed whether she could find her way back ; for, 
as I have said, she was blinded when she faced 
the storm. She could not follow the track, — ' 



228 



A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME, 




" My grandfather pressed Mary in his arms. 



indeed, there was none that was of any service 
as a footway now, — and she would be as like- 
ly to go wrong as right. She was frightened, 
not for herself, but for her children, because 
she felt that she could not return to them. 

And again she pressed on, increasing the 
distance that was between her and those little 
ones to whom she would have so gladly re- 
turned. She had not gone far, however, be- 
fore she was sure she had strayed from the 
track; she could see it no longer, and she 
sank so deeply at every step, that she could 
scarce proceed at all. The storm was contin- 
ually increasing, and now raged furiously. 
Almost in despair, Mary stood for a moment 
in the midst of the blinding snow, with hands 
upraised and clasped, imploring God. Then, 
as if strengthened, she again pressed on; but 
whither, she knew not. 

She was led aright. Struggling forward till 
she could hardly go farther, she saw at last, 
not far from her, a dimly defined bank, which 
proved to be Captain Green's barn. Then she 
felt safe; but agam she implored God for her 
children. A few struggles more brought her 
to the door of the house; but she had hardly 
strength to open it. When she did, and ap- 
peared before the captain's family, they were 
filled with astonishment and alarm. She was 
like a statue of snow, and for a moment 
speechless. 

"When Mary made her story known, both 
the captain and his wife tried to assure her 
that the children would be safe, though they 
well knew that no human being could reach 



them till the storm should subside. Mary was 
grateful for their good intentions, but she 
understood the whole matter as well as they, 
and felt that she must trust them wholly with 
Him whom she had already besought. Her 
hope was, that the storm would so subside 
that she could return before night; and know- 
ing that it was almost as impossible for the 
captain to reach her house as for herself, she 
sat down to wait. 

The captain was a man of more means than 
my grandfather possessed, and was an older 
man, and had a larger family. He had several 
sons and daughters, and some of them were 
old enough to be of much assistance, both in 
the house and out. Besides, he kept a hired 
man, and he had two yoke of strong oxen in 
his barn ; but with all these he could not make 
his way to Mary's house in that storm. 

It was a dark and dreary day for Mary. But 
for the great blazing fire that was constantly 
going in the wide chimney, the large family 
room would have been very gloomy. Even 
at noon, the darkness outside was like the 
coming on of night, and through the small 
window-panes nothing could be seen but the 
driving, swirling snow. As it drew towards 
the middle of the day, Mrs. Green prepared 
for dinner; first, by hanging upon the great 
crane over the fire a large iron pot half filled 
with water. Then she sifted a quantity of 
Indian meal, as yellow as sands of gold; and 
when the water boiled, she called one of the 
boys to help her; and, while she dropped the 
meal into the boiling water, a little at a time, 



A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



229 



he stirred it briskly with the wooden ladle. 
In a few moments the meal was all in and the 
stirring completed, when the crane was swung 
out, and the pot lifted off. Then its contents 
— as nice hasty-pudding as ever was eaten — 
were ladled into a great wooden bowl, and 
placed upon the table, by the side of another 
that was filled with milk; and, with smaller 
bowls of wood, or basins of pewter, and spoons 
of the same material, the family drew around 
and helped themselves. Mary had no heart 
to eat; but the captain told her that she could 
bear trouble better on a full stomach, and 
urged her to partake. To satisfy him, she 
made a show of eating, at least; and when 
dinner was over, she sat again by the window, 
waiting for the storm to subside. 

But in vain was her waiting; for the hours 
passed, and the darkness of night was again 
over the earth, and still the storm raged as 
furiously as ever. The thick clouds and the 
driving storm had made it a short and dismal 
day; yet to Mary it had seemed very long. 
When night came, and she felt that those little 
ones, if still alive, must pass it alone, she was 
in an agony of mind, and she almost doubted 
whether, after all, God was that kind and 
protecting Father that she had thought him to 
be. Her good neighbors strove to cheer her, 
though they must have well known how im- 
possible the task. If Mary's children had 
been with her, that fire-lit room would indeed 
have been a most cheerful one ; for there the 
family sat encircling the broad hearth on 
which the logs were blazing and crackling, 
while the storm could be heard rushing 
through the yet uncleared forest that covered 
the hills, and, brushing around the walls of 
the house, driving the snow through the 
cracks, and piling it against the window- 
panes; and anon some intercepted gust would 
whirl and roar in the wide-mouthed chimney, 
puffing out the blaze and the smoke towards 
those who sat below in the cheerful light of 
the fire. But all this only increased Mary's 
misery; for Alice was but five years old, and 
little Benny only three. If no other accident 
should happen to them, their fire would go 
out; and would they not freeze.^ What if the 
door should be burst open by the driving 
wind, and the wolves — She could not bear 
to think of it. But she sat with the family, 
and tried to appear cheerful. 

The captain's family retired early, as was 
the custom in those days ; and Mary wore 
away the long, sleepless hours of night upon 
a low bed, close up under the roof, where it 



seemed to her as if she could almost feel the 
snow which she heard swirling overhead. She 
suffered almost beyond endurance, beseech- 
ing, doubting, hoping, fearing; sleep there 
was none for her. 

And it was thus till the midnight hour had 
passed ; and then, she thanked God, there was 
a lull. The winds died away, and the roar of 
the storm over the hills sank to fitful gusts; 
then occasional murmurings, and whisperings 
of stray waifs on the roof overhead — and all 
was still. 

She knew that the storm had passed, and, 
rising from her bed, she tried to peer out into 
the night through the little window that was 
in the gable close to its head. The snow al- 
most covered the panes, yet she could see stars 
glittering above, and a whitened forest below. 
She strained her eyes in the direction of her 
home, but all she could see was the white robe 
that covered the earth. She wanted to awaken 
the family, that she might start immediately 
towards home ; but, restraining her impa- 
tience, she returned to her bed, and there 
waited the usual time to rise. 

Hours before the sun appeared, every mem- 
ber of the family was astir. A path was shov- 
elled to the barn, the oxen fed, the sled dug 
out, and everything made ready to start a& 
soon as breakfast could be prepared and eaten. 
Before daylight had fairly dawned, the team 
was hitched up, and the four strong oxen drew 
the sled, with Mary and the boys with their 
shovels upon it, slowly through the snow. It 
was heavj", tedious work, and the team had to 
stop often to rest; when all but Mary would 
go ahead with their shovels, to break and 
loosen the snow. The sun rose above the hills 
before they had made half the distance; but, 
just as its rays struck upon them, they were 
surprised to see a thin column of smoke rising 
straight up before them, as if it came from the 
chimneyof Mary's dwelling. Her heart bound- 
ed ; but whether the smoke meant good or evil,, 
she did not know. The house was not yet in 
sight, and she was still tortured by suspense. 

They had proceeded but a short distance 
farther, when the forms of two men were seen 
struggling through the snow towards them as 
they crossed a low ridge that hid the house 
from view. They were more surprised than 
before, for how was it possible for human be- 
ings to have arrived there during that storm.'* 
Who would be likely to arrive there, unless — ■ 
but Marj'- dared not hope it was he. 

They pressed on, and tlie men drew near. 
One of them was an Indian, and Mary was 



330 



A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



startled by the discovery. But the other was 
surely a white man ; and in a few moments 
more her heart beat very fast, for — she could 
hardly be mistaken — it was her husband ! 

Struggling on, the two parties came to- 
gether; and my grandfather pressed Mary in 
his arms, and asked her why she had been 
away from home in such a storm. While the 
team rested, each explained to the other in a 
few words what had brought them there. 

My grandfather's story was, that, on the 
night before the storm, he had camped, with 
the Indian who was with him, — who was his 
fast friend through his having once saved his 
life, — but a few miles from home. He had 
intended to reach home that night, but the 
snow prevented ; and, starting as soon as it 
was light the next morning, they had hastened 
forward as fast as they could on account of 
the coming storm. They had arrived at the 
house, almost exhausted, to find Mary gone. 
The children were frightened at seeing them, 



for Alice did not at once remember her father; 
and it was some time before he could under- 
stand that their mother had left them, just as 
it began to snow, to go to Captain Green's. 
Why she had gone, they did not know; but, 
believing that, if she had gone there, she was 
safe, and knowing from his own experience 
that she could not return till after the storm, 
my grandfather did not feel greatly alarmed, 
but made hiinself and his friend as comfort- 
able as possible, well convinced that he would 
not see her that day. 

Now Mary cared not for the snow, and the 
joy and gratitude of her heart were so great 
that she wanted to sink upon her knees at 
once, and thank the good Father, whom she 
had almost doubted, but who, she now saw, 
loved her still. Together they returned, a 
joyous party; and never was there a happier 
household than was my grandfather's when 
the sun again went down, and they were all 
gathei'ed around the fire in his own home. 




Girls in Old Times. 



BAFFLED REVENGE. 



231 




'The Silenck was broken by the sharp Report of a Rifle." Page 233. 



BAIPLED EEVENGE. 

THE "WHITE MAN OUTVSTITS THE RED. 
BY J. H. w. 

THE neighbor Warner, who had been with 
my grandfather in the Rangers, lived near 
the same stream that wound down through 
the valley past my grandfather's clearing, 
about three miles distant from him in a straight 
line, although it was considerably farther by 
the course of the stream. When I was a boy, 
and lived at home, on the same farm my grand- 
father had cleared, several of Warner's de- 
scendants also lived upon the same place that 
he had cleared. There was no path I loved 
to follow so well as that which led down 
through the pine woods, along the river's 
bank, towards the Warners', where, for miles, 
I would see no human being, and where I 
could well imagine that all remained as it had 
been a hundred years before. 

Spreading out to the eastward from this riv- 
er of beloved memory was a broad plain, in 
the midst of which had stood Warner's dwell- 
ing, much the same in all re«pects as had been 
my grandfather's; both of which, in the time 
of my boyhood, had been long superseded by 
more modern structures. 



In the midst of the silent forest, and not far 
from Warner's house, was a pond, — a little, 
miniature lake, — on the shores of which, at 
the time when he settled there, the sound of 
the white man's axe had never been heard. A 
small canoe, concealed by some outgrowing 
bushes on the shore, when not in use, enabled 
the settler to land such of the innumerable 
wild ducks and geese that frequented the lit- 
tle lake during the migrating season, as his 
unerring rifle compelled to remain ; and anoth* 
er canoe in the river served the same purpose 
there. 

There was rare fishing in that river at the 
time when Warner and my grandfather settled 
upon it; and it was still good when I was a 
boy, which was one reason why I loved so well 
to follow that forest path. 

Warner's deeds while with the Rangers had 
made his name well known among the wild 
warriors whom he had so often met in the 
woods, upon the war-path, and had caused his 
life to be sought for. Many a sight had been 
drawn on him, and many a bullet intended for 
him had just missed its mark, and more than 
one savage had grappled with him for his life 
only to lose his own. 

Before the close of the war, and the conse* 



232 



BAFFLED REVENGE 



quent disbandment of the Rangers, he had 
become aware that he had one mortal enemv 
among the hostile red men. A friendly Indian 
had informed him of the fact that a brother 
of a warrior whom he had slain was seeking 
for his life; and he knew that he would not be 
satisfied without it, even though years should 
intervene before he could accomplish his pur- 
pose. Warner knew well that an Indian re- 
quired blood for blood, and that nothing but 
the life of the one who had taken the life of a 
relative would satisfy him; and the knowledge 
that his life was thus sought by no means 
added to his peace of mind. So long as the 
war continued, he was more careful about be- 
ing away from the Rangers alone ; and when- 
ever a bullet came nearer to him than usual, 
he felt that it had been directed by the aven- 
ging brother. 

But the war ended, and he returned home 
uninjured, though not without taking every 
precaution against being followed, using the 
most subtle devices he could think of to throw 
the avenger off his track. 

He believed he had succeeded, for, as I have 
said, he arrived home safely; and for more 
than a year nothing occurred to indicate that 
his homeward route had been traced. But 
early in the second summer, Robinson — the 
man whom he and my grandfather had res- 
cued from the Indians — came to him one day 
while he was hoeing his corn, and told him 
that another neighbor, who lived farther away, 
had met a strange Indian, who had inquired 
if there was not such a man as he living about 
there. Mistrusting that his inquiry was made 
with no good intent, the neighbor had told 
him that he did not know of such a man ; 
whereat the Indian looked a little incredulous, 
and soon left him. 

The neighbor lived nearer to Robinson than 
he did to Warner; and when he was sure 
that the Indian had got so far away that he 
would not come upon him again, he went 
directly to Robinson's house, to impart to 
him his suspicions. Robinson, believing the 
strange Indian was he who sought to avenge 
a brother's death, had come directly to put 
Warner on his guard. 

" Very likely it is he," said Warner, coolly, 
in reply to Robinson's communication ; " and 
if he has got so near, he won't be long in 
finding me. I think, however, he'll let me 
live a little longer, if I can see him." 

"If he has come so far, he won't be satisfied 
to go back with anything less than your scalp," 
remarked Robinson. 

"No; perhaps not; but, as I have no hair 



to spare, I'll have to fix it some other way. If 
I can only get a word with him, I think there'll 
be no trouble. You can trust me to manage 
that thing, Ben." 

"I don't know. If you see him first, per- 
haps you can; but I guess there'll be small 
chance for that. If his piece should miss fire, 
or his aim be unsteady, you'll have a chance; 
but not much otherwise, I guess." 

" Don't you worry a bit. My chances are a 
■hundred times better here than they were that 
night I let you up, after the Indians had car- 
ried you so far away from camp. Just go 
home, Ben, and make yourself easy ; and if the 
fellow inquires of you, tell him just where he 
can find me. That will be the best way now." 

" If he should call on me, I'd shoot him, 
if I knew it wouldn't be considered murder; 
but I suppose it would, as it's peace now. He'll 
have to fire the first shot, or it will be murder, 
I suppose, even though it's to save a man's 
life." 

" You're right, Ben ; it won't do to murder 
even an Indian; and I hope you won't shoot 
him if you see him. Just tell him the way as 
straight as you can, and let him come here. 
If I can only see him, I think we can get along 
without any murdering being done by any- 
body. I hope jou'll see him, Ben, and send 
him here." 

" Well, Roj'al, you've seen too many Indians 
to be killed by one now, I guess; and if he 
comes to me I'll send him along. But I hope, 
for the sake of them that's in the house, you'll 
keep a sharp lookout. I wouldn't work too 
near the woods, if I were you." 

And so saying, Robinson left the bold man 
at work where he had found him, and returned 
home. Warner did not leave his work till the 
usual hour; but he turned many a searching 
glance towards the woods, which were not far 
from him, and listened also for any sound that 
might come from tliem, as' his hoe stopped, 
and he bent down to pluck the weeds from 
among the tender blades of corn. 

But he finished his day's work without dis- 
covering anything of the wily foe he expected, 
and went home to his supper, meeting his wife 
and little ones as composedly as if nothing 
had happened to disturb the usual serenity 
of his mind. He said nothing to them of Rob- 
inson's call; and the only thing he did that 
would indicate that he had it still in mind, was 
to take down his rifle, and draw out the charge 
that was in it, which he replaced, with unusual 
care, by another, scraping the edge of the fiint, 
to make it more certain that it would strike 
fire the first time. Then he hung the rifle on 



BAFFLED REVENGE. 



233 



the pegs where it always rested when not in 
use, and seemed to have no thought for anj'- 
thing but an hour of quiet enjoyment with his 
little family, and a good night's rest. 

The next morning, before going out, Warner 
scanned theedgeof the woods carefully through 
the windows of his cabin, which drew; from 
his observing wife the inquiry, — 

" What is it, Royal .^ Are the bears around 
again .'' " 

" There are varmints of some kind, judging 
from what I saw yesterday; and I want to get 
a sight at them." 

But without any further explanation, he went 
out, and began to do his chores, his wife pre- 
paring breakfast meantime. After breakfast, 
he shouldered his hoe, and went towards the 
field, as if to continue his labor there ; but just 
as he reached it, he stopped, and stood for a 
few moments in a thoughtful attitude, and 
then turned back towards the house, as if he 
had decided not to work. Hanging his hoe 
in the usual place, he entered the house, and 
took down his rifle, and looked at the priming, 
and rubbed the flint once more. 

" Is it a bear, or a turkey.' " asked his good 
wife. 

"What if I shouldn't tell you.-"' answered 
Warner, as he turned a tender look towards 
her. 

" Then I'd kiss you," she exclaimed, laugh- 
ingly, stepping lightly towards him, and put- 
ting her arms around his neck- and her lips to 
his face. 

" Then I am sure I will never tell ; " and he 
put one arm around her waist, and returned 
the kiss as fervently as it was given. " Don't 
be alarmed, Mary ; I'll be back soon ; " and, 
without any more words, he left the cabin, 
going in a direction opposite to his field of 
corn, which left Mary a little mystified as to 
what his true purpose was. 

Warner went straight forward, without turn- 
ing a look in any direction, till he had entered 
the woods, when he looked about warily, but 
still kept on. At last he stopped, and seemed 
to be searching for a spot favorable for some 
purpose he had in mind. A large decaying 
log was lying on the ground not far from him, 
and he went towards it. He seemed to be sat- 
isfied with it; and putting down his rifle, he 
took out his knife, and cut oft" three or four 
of the smallest saplings that grew near. Then 
taking off" his tow frock, he hung it upon a 
stick, which he drove into the ground close to 
one side of the log, and placed another short 
stick within the shoulders of the sleeves, to 
keep them out about the breadth of his own I 



shoulders, arranging it so that the neck of the 
frock was a few inches above the top of the 
log. Over this he placed his hat, so as to make 
it appear to any one approaching as if a man 
was sitting with his back against the log, his 
head and shoulders rising just above it. 

Warner seemed satisfied with his work, and 
after viewing it a moment, he proceeded to 
cut down some bushes, working with some 
haste, and with them he erected a screen, such 
as hunters used to lie in wait behind when 
calling wild turkeys. He formed the screen 
directly in front of the frock and cap, so that 
whoever approached it would naturally sup- 
pose that a hunter was waiting there, decoy- 
ing game. 

His arrangements were soon completed ; and 
then, after looking sharply around among the 
trunks of the tall trees, he laid himself down 
beside the log, so that his own body was ef- 
fectually concealed, and began to utter, at reg- 
ular intervals, the call used by hunters to en- 
tice turkeys within rifle-shot. 

Between the calls, Warner listened, to detect 
any sound that might be made within the si- 
lent forest, but never moving, or raising his 
head to look around. At last he heard an 
answer to his decoying notes, coming faintly 
from the quarter opposite to that from which 
he had approached the log; and immediately 
he repeated his call. An answer came back 
to every call he made; and as each successive 
reply seemed nearer than the last, he was sure 
that some solitary bird was being enticed to- 
wards him. Now his calls were less frequent, 
and between them he listened anxiously fof 
any other sounds. He put up a stick which 
he held in his hand, and moved the hat and 
frock slightly several times, straining his sens^ 
of hearing always to the utmost. 

Suddenly there was a sound like the snap- 
ping of a dry stick broken by being trod upon. 
It was but a slight sound, but he could not be 
mistaken, and Warner's face showed a look 
of satisfaction, probably because the sound 
came from beyond the opposite side of the 
log. He quicklj-^ jogged the hat and frock 
again, repeating his call, and making a rus- 
tling noise with his limbs at the same time. 
Then for a moment he kept perfectly stjU, and 
was almost certain he could detect the soft, 
stealth^' tread of moccasoned feet upon the 
leaves. 

He moved the hat again, raising it slightly, 
and in an instant a bullet whistled tiirough 
it, and the silence was broken by the sharp 
report of a rifle. Bending the stick tiiat held 
the frock and hat quickly forward, till they 



234 



BAFFLED REVENGE, 



were below the top of the log, he waited still 
a moment more, and then heard the quick 
tread of some one approaching. Springing 
to his feet, he confronted his mortal foe, the 
Indian who had been so long in pursuit of 
his life. 

In an instunt his rifle was at his shoulder, 
and the Indian, already within twenty yards 
of him, stopped, statue-like, uttering the single 
exclamation, — 

" Me dead man ! " 

He might have seen the flash that leaped 
from the dark tube before him, but he could 
hardly have heard the report which followed 
it. He seemed to rise, without any eff'ort of 
his own, clear of the ground, and then he fell 
forward at full length upon it. 

Warner coolly wiped out the barrel of his 
rifle, re-charged it, and then approached his 
prostrate foe. He lay upon his face ; but 
turning him over, he saw that he was indeed 
a dead man. The Indian had sought so dili- 
gently and so long only to be foiled by the 
object of his search in this manner. The 
white man's cunning had more than equalled 
the red man's; and the result of the Indian's 
long journey was, that his own spirit had 
been sent by his intended victim to join that 
of the dead brother in the happy hunting- 
grounds. 

" He brought it upon himself; he fired the 
first shot, and it is no murder," Warner said 
to himself, as he stood thoughtfully over the 
body. " But now he must be disposed of." 

The pond I have mentioned was not far off"; 
and taking the body by the shoulders, Warner 
drew it thither. Then he managed to bind 
some heavy stones to it, and to place it in his 
canoe. Paddling to the centre of the pond, 
and dropping it overboard, it sank beneath 
the placid waters, to trouble him no more. 

" Now," thought he, as he returned to the 
shore, " I hope the war is over." 

Going back to his decoj', he destroyed 
every sign of it, and picking up the Indian's 
rifle, he carried it to the edge of the pond, and 
cast it from him far into the water. Then he 
turned towards home, and soon appeared be- 
fore his waiting wife, seemingly as calm and 
undisturbed as if he had only returned from 
a morning's hunt. 

"Ah!" she exclaimed, good-naturedly, as 
he came in empty-handed, " some one else has 
carried away the game, then. I heard two 
shots, and knew that you could not have fired 
them both, because they were so near togeth- 
er. Whom did you meet, Royal ? " 

" I don't know his name; he don't belong 
in this settlement," said Warner, evasively. 



"Why didn't he come home with you.'' If 
he is a stranger, we might have given him a 
dinner, at least." 

"He had a long journey before him, and 
could not tarry. He is far from here by this 
time." 

" He did not carry away the game, then. 
Why have you left it behind.? I thought you 
had gone for a turkey." 

"I might have brought one, if it had not 
been for him; but he fired first, and only 
frightened the bird, so that it escaped alto- 
gether. I'll bring you a turkey to-morrow, 
Mary." 

And thus was the good wife's curiosity sat- 
isfied; and towards all of his neighbors War- 
ner was equally reticent for many years; but 
finally, as he and my grandfather grew old 
together, he one day told how he had baffled 
his enemy, as they two sat together upon the 
shore of the pond where he had buried him, 
talking, as they sometimes loved to do, of the 
daring exploits and wild adventures of their 
younger days. 




THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 



235 



THE BATTLE OP BUNKER HILL. 



BY T. W. HIGGINSON. 



[an extract from the young folks' history of the 
united states.] 

SAMUEL ADAMS, when he heard the guns 
at Lexington, exclaimed, " O, what a glo- 
rious morning is this ! " for he knew that the 
contest would end in the freedom of the colo- 
nies. President Jefferson said afterwards, — 

" Before the 19th of April, 1775, I never had 
heard a whisper of a disposition to sepai'ate 
from Great Britafn." 

The Massachusetts committee of safety at 
once sent out addresses to the different towns, 
and to the other New England colonies, asking 
them to send troops to the neigh- 
borhood of Boston. Before long 
there were some fifteen thou- 
sand men collected, under a va- 
riety of independent command- 
ers. General Ward commanded 
those from Massachusetts ; Gen- 
eral Stark, those from New 
Hampshire ; General Greene, 
those from Rhode Island ; and 
Generals Spencer and Putnam, 
those from Connecticut. The 
army was not at all disciplined ; 
it had few cannon, and little 
ammunition ; the men came and 
went very much as they wished. 
But they were strong enough to 
keep the British army of five 
thousand shut up in Boston ; 
and General Gage sent most 
of the families of the patriotic party out 
of town, so that there was very little inter- 
course between those within and those with- 
out. 

It was found that there were two ranges of 
hills that commanded Boston on two sides — 
Dorchester Heights on the south, and Bunker 
Hill and Breed's Hill on the north-west. It 
was of importance to both sides to get the 
conti-ol of these hills ; and the Americans had 
reason to know that General Gage was planning 
to extend his lines, and include Bunker Hill. 
So a force of a thousand men was sent, one 
night, under command of Colonel Prescott, 
to ei-ect some earthworks for its protection. 
His men were mostly farmers : they had no 
uniforms, and carried fowling-pieces without 
bayonets. They formed on Cambridge Com- 
mon, and, after a prayer by the president of 
Harvard College, marched, at nine P. M., June 



16, 1775. They marched so silently that they 
were not heard ; and the bells of Boston had 
struck twelve before they turned a sod. It was 
finally decided to fortify Breed's Hill, as be- 
ing nearer to Boston, instead of Bunker Hill. 
The work was soon begun. As they worked, 
they could hear the sentinels from the British 
men-of-war cry, " All's well ! " As day dawned, 
the newiy-made earthworks were seen from 
the ships, which began to fire on them, as did 
a battery in Boston. But the Americans went 
on completing their fortifications. General 
Gage with his telescope watched Colonel Pres- 
cott as he moved about the works. 

" Will he fight.' " asked he. 

"To the last drop of his blood," said an 
American loyalist who stood near. 

Soon the British general made up his mind 




to lose no time, but to attack the works that 
day. 

It was now the 17th of June. The day was 
intensely hot. Three thousand British sol- 
diers were embarked in boats, and sent across 
to Charlestovvn. Prescott placed his men, as 
he best could, behind the half-finished mounds ; 
and a detachment was stationed at a rail fence, 
on the edge of Bunker Hill, to keep the British 
troops from flanking the redoubt. This rail- 
fence was afterwards filled in with new-mown 
hay, ±0 screen better those behind it. Without 
food, without water, and with very little am- 
munition, the Americans awaited their oppo- 
nents. There were from two to three thou- 
sand behind the breastworks, and four thousand 
British to attack them; and the Americans 
were almost without drill or discipline, while 
the British troops were veteran regiments. 
On the other hand, the British were obliged 



236 



THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 



to advance in open field, while the Americans 
were behind their earthworks — a far safer 
position. There they waited as quietly as they 
could, while Putnam, Prescott, and others 
moved about among them, saying, " Aim 
low." "Wait till you can see the whites of 
their eyes." * 

The British soldiers marched forward slow- 
ly, for they were oppressed with the heat, and 
were burdened with their knapsacks of provis- 
ions. But they marched with great regularity, 
and entire confidence. They fired as they went ; 
but only a few scattering shots were fired in 
return. On, on they came, till they were 
within some ten rods of the redoubt. Then 
the word " Fire !" was given; and when the 
smoke cleared away, the ground was strewed 
with the British soldiers, and the survivors 
had already begun to retreat. A great cheer 
went up from the forts, and the shout was 
echoed from the rail fence. The Americans 
behind the fence were next attacked by the 
right wing of the British. The Americans 
withheld their fire till the last moment; and 
three fourths of the advancing soldiers fell, 
and the rest faltered. Twice the British ad- 
vanced, and twice they were driven backwards, 
while very few of the Americans were hurt. 
Then a third attack was made upon the main 
fort. The British officers were seen threaten- 
ing the soldiers, and even striking and prick- 
ing them, to make them advance ; but they 
were very unwilling. Putnam passed round 
the ranks, telling his men that, if the British 
were once more driven back, they could not 
rally again; and his men shouted, "We are 
ready for the red-coats again." 

But Putnam knew that their powder was al- 
most gone, and told them to i-eserve their fire 
till the British were within twenty yards. Once 
more they awaited the assailants, who now 
advanced with fixed bayonets, without firing, 
and under the protection of batteries of artil- 
lery. Most of the Americans had but one 
round of ammunition left, and few had more 
than three. Scarcely any had bayonets. Their 
last shots were soon fired ; and there was noth- 
ing for them but to retreat as they best could. 
They fell back slowly, one by one, losing far 
more men in the retreat than in the battle. 
Among their losses was the brave General 
Warren, eminent as a physician and as a pa- 
triot. He was president of the Provincial 
Congress, and was there only as a volunteer, 
not in command. The British general, Howe, 
on hearing of his death, said that it was equal 
to the loss of five hundred men to the Amer- 
icans. 

The battle of Bunker Hill was of the great- 



est importance to the colonies. First, it set- 
tled the question that there was to be a war, 
which many people had not before believed. 
Secondly, it showed that inexperienced Amer- 
ican soldiers could resist regular troops. It is 
said that when Washington heard of it, he 
only asked, "Did the militia stand fire?" 
And when he was told that they did, and that 
they reserved their own till their opponents 
were within eight rods, he said, " The liberties 
of the country are safe." 

The battle was not claimed as a victory by 
the Americans ; and yet it roused their enthu- 
siasm very much. The ranks of the Conti- 
nental army were filled up, and the troops were 
in high spirits.. On the other hand, the great- 
est surprise was felt in England at the courage 
shown by the Americans in this contest, and 
the great number of killed and wounded among 
the British troops. By the official accounts, 
the British loss in killed and wounded was 
more than a thousand (1054), including an 
unusually large proportion of oflRcers, being 
one in four of the whole force engaged. The 
American loss was less than half as many — 
not more than four hundred and fifty. People 
in England complained that none of their 
regiments had ever returned so diminished in 
numbers from any battle. One came back, for 
instance, with only twenty-five men. And it 
was said that " no history could produce a par- 
allel " to the courage shown by the British 
in advancing beneath such a murderous fire. 
" So large a proportion of a detachment," it 
was said, " was never killed or wounded in 
Germany," where the British armies had lately 
been engaged. 




H 

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> 

H 
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H- 1 




VIENNA. 



239 




The Gr;snd Opera House. 



VIENM. 



BY MARY GRANGER CHASE. 



THE Austrian capital has been pronounced 
the least part of itself, for almost any one 
could walk round the city proper within an 
hour, and through it in a quarter of an hour. 
Yet this little spot contains nearly sixty thou- 
sand inhabitants. It is surrounded by a broad, 
open green ring, which was the glacis when 
the town was fortified, and is now laid out with 
lovely walks and fine acacia and chestnut 
trees. Beyond this pleasant, grassy prome- 
nade are the suburbs, four and thirty in num- 
ber, and comprising ten times as much space 
as the inner town, though only seven times as 
many people. 

From the relation of city and suburbs, Vi- 
enna has been compared to " a diamond sur- 



rounded by thirty-four emeralds," and also to 
" an ancient dame with her more or less well- 
grown daughters." 

The old town is the fashionabre quarter. 
Here are the palaces of the emperor and 
the principal nobility, the most interesting 
churches and public buildings, aud splendid 
shops, with very elaborate and tasteful signs. 
In the suburbs the streets are broad, well 
paved, and handsome ; but those in the town, 
though cleanly, are ci-ooked, very narrow, and 
all run to one centre, like the spokes of a wheel, 
or the threads of a spider's web ; and as the 
houses are very high, the city is dark, except- 
ing just at midday, when the sun does manage 
to look in. There are no sidewalks, and 



240 



VIENNA. 



pedestrians are compelled to keep constant 
watch over their toes, and sometimes to jump 
on to the steps of a carriage, to save themselves 
from being crushed by it. Corner houses have 
large slanting stones with iron caps, and rings 
as thick as a man's finger, for vehicles to strike 
against. It is a custom in Vienna to build 
houses around court-vards, and let them, in 
stories or flats, to different families. The 
average is about forty occupants to a house; 
but some houses are little towns by themselves, 
and produce immense sums of rent. There is 
one which has ten courts, two hundred and 
twelve dwellings, and twelve hundred inhab- 
itants. Another has six courts, over thirty 
staircases, three hundred dwellings, and two 
thousand inhabitants. 

As one approaches Vienna, before the city 
itself can be seen at all, the south tower of St. 
Stephen's Cathedral is discerned. This church 
stands in the very heart of the old quarter, 
and is one of the most lovely specimens of 
Gothic architecture to be found in the world. 
It dates back to the middle ages, and not only 
is its exterior exquisitely harmonious, grace- 
ful, and rich in tracery, curious carving, and 
monuments, and the doorways very beautiful ; 
but the height of the ceiling, the soft, dim, re- 
ligious light, the deep, uniform tint of color- 
ing, the highly decorated pillars, elaborately 
wrought pulpit, brilliant old painted glass, 
and impressive pictures, give to the whole in- 
terior " the air of a holy museum." The south 
spire is a most delicate masterpiece of perfo- 
rated stone, not actuallyattached to the church, 
but shooting up beside it from the ground, 
regularly and gradually diminishing in arches 
and buttresses, until it reaches the height of 
over four hundred feet. The Viennese often 
speak of this graceful pyramid as " Stephen," 
as though it were a living friend. Mosses grew 
in profusion in this old tower; and hawks, 
jackdaws, crows, and spiders have their home- 
steads here, while of bats, fifty were killed, 
when some years ago the watchmen in self-de- 
fence, hunted them to their holes. The roof of 
the cathedral is covered with colored tiles, which 
form a double-headed eagle — the crest of Aus- 
tria. This is supposed to be the largest figure 
of a bird in the world. It is one hundred and 
eighty feet wide, from the end of one wing to 
that of the other. Each eye is formed of four 
gilded tiles, and each beak contains thirty. 
The view from the summit of the tower is 
exceedingly grand, taking in not only the busy 
city and its bright suburbs, and the Danube, 
but also Napoleon Bonaparte's battle-fields, the 
Island of Lobau, and the villages of Wagram, 



Aspern, and Essling. A tourist in Vienna, 
some years ago, said of a lookout from the top 
of one of the side towers of the cathedral, — 

"This summit is formed like the leaves of a 
rose, flattened at the top, and aff"ording just 
space enough for two human feet. We ascend- 
ed accordingly, and perched like squirrels on 
the topmost branch of a tree. The beautiful 
city of Vienna lay at our feet. It was a most 
lovely, calm, clear day. We heard and saw 
all that was passing in the city ; even the songs 
of the canary birds in the windows of some 
houses ascended to us, and we could see the 
butterflies fluttering over the house-tops in 
search of some green spot in this (for them) 
dreary waste. We could have told a gentle- 




st. Stephen's Cathedral. 

man we saw walking below, where the brother 
was, of whom he was in search ; for we saw 
him at the same time driving at his leisure 
on the glacis. This glacis, which surrounds 
the inmost core of the city with its broad, 
green ring, lends the panorama its principal 
ornament; it causes the whole scene to fall 
into picturesque parts, and permits the fine 
rows of houses in the suburbs to be seen to 
full advantage. They lie round the outer edge 
of the glacis like white flowers in a wreath 
of green leaves. The tower-keeper named to 
us all the market-places, streets, houses, and 
palaces we saw beneath, showed us the Danube, 
the first range of the Carpathian Mountains, 



VIENNA. 



341 



the Styrian Alps, and the roads that lead to Ger- 
many, Moravia, Bohemia, Italy, and Hungary." 
Near the cathedral is a square called the 
Stock-im-Eisen Platz (the Iron Tree Place), 
-^ a whimsical name with a whimsical origin. 
When the church was built, it was outside the 
walls of the city, and the forest reached, to the 
spot. In time the woods vanished before the 
steadily growing town, until only the trunk 
of one tree was left; and this was spared, be- 
cause dedicated to the welfare of working-men. 
Each artisan who entered the city drove a 
nail into the tree, as a token of his arrival, and 
his possession of a strong right arm. Finally, 
the stock, with its millions of nails, and iron 
hoops to preserve it, has become a post of iron, 
yet, all the time retaining the outline of a tree, 
and has given its name'to the square. 




The Belvedere Palace. 

The Church of the Convent of the Capu- 
chins is interesting, because it contains the 
tombs of the imperial family. The bodies of 
all who have Hapsburg blood in their veins 
are deposited here, while their bowels are 
placed in St. Stephen's Cathedral, and their 
hearts are preserved in silver urns in the sub- 
terranean Loretto Chapel of the Church of 
the Augustines. Strangers are permitted to 
visit the burial-place of the Capuchins under 
the guidance of one of the old monks, with 
his russet habit and cowl, white cord round 
his waist, and a lantern, or an antique Roman 
lamp, in his hand. There are over seventy 
large, oblong, and generally bronze coffins, 
ranged against the wall. Among the most 
elegant is that of the Emperor Joseph I., 
which is of massive silver, and that of Maria 
Theresa, who is called the Qj.ieen Elizabeth 
of Austria. A plam coffin, in a corner, holds 
the dust of a certain countess, who was Maria 
Theresa's governess. The great queen, as a 
16 



mark of esteem and gratitude, made a place 
for the remains of her friend and teacher in 
the tomb of the imperial family. For thirteen 
years Maria Theresa herself descended into 
this sombre vault, every Friday, to pray and 
weep beside the remains of her husband. 
One of the coffins most recently deposited 
here contains the body of the unfortunate 
Maximilian, who attempted, during our civil 
war, to secure ibr himself the throne of Mexico. 
Near the casket of Francis I. is an unadorned 
copper coffin, with a raised cross upon it, and 
the words '■'■ Napoleonis Gallicz Imperatoris 
Filius" &c. Here lies the mortal part of 
Napoleon Bonaparte's only son, the titular King 
of Rome, who died at Vienna, in 1S32, at the 
age of twenty-one years. He is said to have 
been an amiable prince, and he was the favor- 
ite of his grandfather, Francis I., who survived 
him but three years. Thej- were constantly 
together in life, and the emperor desired that 
in the sepulchre their bodies should not be 
separated. 

The Emperor Francis was almost idolized 
by the people, so paternal was his home rule. 
Every Wednesday he devoted certain hours to 
the reception of any of his subjects who had 
petitions or complaints to lay before him, and 
people who felt unjustly treated travelled 
hundreds of miles to tell their story to the 
emperor himself. On one occasion, Francis 
met, in one of the streets of Vienna, the body 
of a poor woman which was being borne to the 
grave unattended. He asked why the friends 
of the deceased did not accompany her to her 
burial. The reply was, " She has no friends." 
"Then we will be her friends," said the 
emperor; and, taking off his hat, he followed 
the remains to the grave. About two years 
after the death of Francis I., Mrs. Trollope, 
the mother of the well-known novelist, was 
in Vienna on the day called by the Germans, 
Poor Souls' Day, which is spent in visiting 
the graves of departed friends, and offering 
masses for their souls. On this occasion, the 
crypt of the Capuchin Church was open to 
the people, and Mrs. Trollope says the old 
and the young, the rich and the poor, thronged 
to the casket of Francis I., and wept and 
sobbed as though overwhelmed with grief. 
In the evening of the same day Mrs. Trollope 
was at a party, and spoke of her surprise at 
the great emotion she had witnessed in the 
morning. 

" Had you known the emperor," said all 
who heard her, '• it would have caused you no 
astonishment." 

"Would it surprise }ou," asked a lady pres- 



342 



VIENNA. 



ent, " to see children weeping at the grave of 
a father? The emperor was more than a fa- 
ther to us." 

The present Emperor of Austria, Francis 
Joseph, goes once a jear, shuddering and 
shrinking, into the solemn gloom of the Loretto 
Chapel, to pray amidst the silver urns which 
enshrine the hearts of the deceased members 
of his family. The church to which this 
chapel belongs is the parish church of the 
court, and contains the masterpiece of the 
famous Italian artist Canova. It is the monu- 
ment of the Archduchess Christine. He spent 
seven years upon it, and after his death the 
sculptor, who was asked to devise a fitting 
monument for him, felt that he could execute 
nothing that would be so worthy of his 
brother-artist's greatness as a copj' of this 
tomb; and that is what marks Canova's own 
burial-place in Venice. 

The Voti'f Kirche (Votive Church), which is 
in the suburbs, is a new, elaborate, and very 
costly Gothic structure, built by public sub- 
scription, in memory of the hair-breadth 
escape of the present emperor from an attempt 
to assassinate him in 1S53, when he was but 
three and twenty years of age. The founda- 
tion-stone was brought from the Mount of 
Olives, and it was laid by Francis Joseph 
himself in 1856. 

An older church of interest is that called 
St. Karl, which was built between 1713 and 
1737 by the benevolent Emperor Charles VI., 
in fulfilment of a vow that he made when in 
the former year, the plague was devastating his 
capital. Two lofty columns, at each side of 
the building, show, in winding bass-reliefs, 
events in the life of Count Carlo Borromeo, a 
celebrated saint in the Roman Catholic church ; 
but they make the edifice look somewhat like a 
Turkish mosque with its minai-ets. 

The Imperial Arsenal in Vienna is open to 
visitors every day, bj' tickets obtained at the 
oifice of the minister of war. Here may be 
seen, festooned around the walls of the court- 
yard, the enormous chain of eight thousand 
links, which the Turks, when they besieged 
the city, under Sultan Solyman, in 1529, threw 
across the Danube to impede the navigation 
of the river. Again, in 1683, the Turks, com- 
manded by the Grand Vizier Kara Mustapha, 
laid siege to Vienna; and then the city was 
saved by the gallant Pole, Sobieski, and the 
Duke of Lorraine. Sobieski's armor is pre- 
served in this museum, And also the green 
standard of Mahomet, captured in the battle 
he gained. A great variet}"^ of cannon is stored 
in this arsenal, and one small field-piece is 



known as " die Amsel" (the blackbird). Two 
hundred thousand stand of arms^ are at pres- 
ent kept in readiness here, and fortified bar- 
racks for ten thousand men. In another 
arsenal in the town is shown the immense 
blood-red standard the Duke of Lorraine 
took from the Turks, and the head of the 
Vizier Kara Mustapha, the cord with which 
he was strangled when he returned in defeat 
from his expedition, and the shirt covered with 
Arabic inscriptions from the Koran. 

The Ambras Museum occupies seven rooms, 
and contains numerous wonders. Here are 
the horse-tail standard and quiver of old 
Kara Mustapha, the tomahawk of Montezuma, 
Emperor of Mexico, and a nail, two feet long, 
and weighing forty-two pounds, from the 
famous Pantheon at Rome. And here is a 
set of toys made for the children of Francis 




The Church of St. Charles Borromeo. 

I. of France and Eleanor of Austria. Think 
of looking at the very playthings wrought for 
the children of the French king, who met 
Henry VIII. of England on the celebrat- 
ed yield of the cloth of gold I The cabinet 
of minerals in this museum has a very large 
collection of aerolites, or stones that have 
fallen from the sky. One of these visitors 
from afar weighs seventy-one pounds. It fell 
to the ground in Croatia in 1751. 

The ancient and splendid Belvedere Palace, 
now a museum, is in the suburbs, about two 
miles from St. Stephen's Cathedral, but is 
easily reached by an omnibus. It consists of 
two buildings, one at the summit, the other 
at the foot of the hill. The Upper Belvedere 
is a picture gallery, stored with invaluable 
works by the old masters. It contains a 
mosaic copy of Da Vinci's picture of the Last 



VIENNA. 



243 



Supper, which Napoleon Bonaparte engaged 
for a certain sum, and it was taken by the 
Emperor Francis I. at the same price. In 
the library of this building is preserved, in a 
glass case, Maximilian's elegant uniform, 
dabbled with his blood, and a red sash em- 
broidered and heavily fringed with gold. 
The embroidery was the work of his poor 
Carlotta's own fair hands ; and her last act, 
before the painful parting with her husband 
fn Mexico, was to tie it over his uniform. 
The ill-fated young prince wore that uniform 
concealed under his mantle when led forth to 
meet the fatal bullet. The Lower Belvedere 
contains ancient armor, portraits of the Haps- 
burg family, and dresses and jewels brought 
from the South Sea by Captain Cook. 




Equestrian Statue of Prince Charles Schwarzenberg. 

In the imperial palace in the old quarter of 
the city, the state apartments remain as 
Maria Theresa left them, excepting as time 
has marred the ancient gilding and faded the 
heavy velvet hangings. The library of this 
palace is a splendid one, containing three 
hundred and fifty thousand volumes, nearly 
as many engravings, and sixteen thousand 
manuscripts, some of which were written 
nearly two hundred years before the New 
Testament was. It requires a descent to go 
from this library to the imperial stable, but 
the Austrians delight in noble horses, and the 
emperor's stalls are quite worth visiting. In 



the "dark stable" ninety superb sleek black 
horses live in the height of e'quine luxury. 
Before each stall lies a white mat, on which the 
hostler must wipe his feet before stepping 
upon the carpet of nice white straw within. 
The " white stable " is the empress's, and 
there are also the bay and the gray, all similar 
in appointments. It would seem as though 
horses might be long-lived here; and in the 
Vienna Museum of Natural History is pre- 
served a horse that died in the emperor's 
stable forty years of age. Another, in the same 
place, is covered with woolly hair, like a poodle 
dog. This museum has an immense goose, 
and a pigeon, each with four legs. 

About two miles out from Vienna is Schon- 
brunn (Pretty Fountain), the usual summer 
residence of the imperial family. This large 
and magnificently furnished palace, which takes 
its name from a beautiful fountain, decorated 
with the statue of a nymph that stands m its 
grounds, was built by Maria Theresa, and was 
her favorite residence. Napoleon Bonaparte 
made his headquarters here both times that his 
troops held Vienna, in 1S05 and in 1809; and 
here his son lived and died in the same room 
and on the same bed his illustrious father had 
occupied. The visitor now walks through 
certain rooms, frescoed in Mexican designs, 
that were Maximilian's apartments. One 
little chamber, with tapestry work and paint- 
ings, set in the walls and protected by glass 
cases, is the room in which Maria Theresa 
and her daughters sat together engaged in 
needle-work. Among the portraits in this 
palace are seen those of this stirring queen 
and her unhappy daughter Marie Antoinette. 
The extensive grounds belonging to Schon- 
brunn contain a menagerie, and very rich 
botanical gardens. 

Vienna abounds in parks or squares. Among 
them, the one known as the Prater is em- 
phatically " the Common " of the capital, and 
is four miles long. The fashionable drive in 
this immense park extends half a mile, and 
beyond it is the Prater of the common people, 
called the Wursiel, or Sausage Park, because, 
on all holidays, immense quantities of sau- 
sages ( W'ilrie) are always smoking here, and 
pleasure-seekers are continually regaling upon 
the savory compound. The Prater has wide, 
open spaces, charming thickets, and large 
herds of graceful, agile deer, which are so 
tame that they will eat from strangers' hands. 
The pretty creatures are called to one spot for 
their supper by the notes of the Jftger's horn. 
A small but very attractive park, is called the 
Volksgartc7i, or People's Garden. There is 



244 



VIENNA. 



here a fine colossal group of sculpture in 
Carrara marble — Theseus killing the Minotaur 
— made by Canova. It was executed by an 
order from Bonaparte, who purposed to have 
It dfecorate the aixh of the Simplon at Milan ; 
but upon his downfall it fell into the hands 
of the Emperor of Austria. One part of the 
Volksgarten is marked oif by a wire fence as 
belonging to Strauss, " the king of dance- 
mnsic." Every afternoon there is a concert in 
this park, and Strauss conducts two of them 
every week. The Garten is a gay scene in the 
evening, when numerous lamps are shining 
through the flowers and shrubbery, and the 
beautiful fountain in the centre is also bril- 
liantly illuminated. Another square has a 
lovely fountain decorated with five bronze fig- 
ures, representing Austria and her four princi- 
pal rivers — the Danube, the Vistula, the Elbe, 
and the Po. 

Equestrian statues are a noticeable feature 
of the public places in Vienna. The central 
court of the Imperial Palace, which is now 
called Franzensplatz, has a colossal bronze 
one of Francis I., supported by figures of 
Religion, Justice, Peace, and Fortitude. It 
was erected in 1846. The emperor is repre- 
sented as blessing his people, and the expres- 
sion of the face is happy; but the limbs and 
drapery are awkward. Separated from Fratiz- 
ensplatz by a railing with gilt spear heads is 
an esplanade that adjoins the Volksgarten. 
It is adorned with trees, flowers, and foun- 
tains, and furnished with seats, but it is not 
open to the public. Here are bronze eques- 
trian statues of the Archduke Charles, the 
conqueror of Napoleon in " the tremendous 
battle of Aspern," and of the brave Prince 
Eugene of Savoy in the military costume 
of his time — the early part of the eighteenth 
century. The square called Josefhsplatz 
contains a colossal equestrian statue, which 
Francis I. erected, in 1806, in memory of his 
uncle, the Emperor Joseph II., son of Maria 
Theresa. And a colossal statue of Maria 
Theresa has also been set up to commemorate 
her as the founder of the Military Academy. 
It is surrounded by figures of Religion, Justice, 
Wisdom, and Strength. Francis Joseph in- 
tends, it is said, to have magnificent statues 
of all the emperors of Austria erected in 
Vienna. 

The educational and literary advantages of 
Vienna are remarkable, and also its charitable 
institutions. , Orphans, the children of sol- 
diers and of very poor parents, are taught 
gratuitously, schoolmasters being required 
to take twenty-five poor children as free pupils 



among every one hundred scholars they have, 
while the state provides these needy little folks 
with books. Rarely is any one found here 
who has not been taught to read, and instruct- 
ed in the first principles of religion. The 
Vienna University is over six hundred years 
old, though its present building is one of 
Maria Theresa's works. It has three hundred 
students, of whom the larger number are free 
pupils, the salaries of the one hundred and 
twelve professors coming wholly from the 
state. This institution is very celebrated as a 
school of medicine. The deaf and dumb in 
Vienna are very tenderly cared for, and care- 
fully instructed ; and it is from this class, who 
are little tempted to gossip, that persons are 
selected for such business of the state as re- 
quires secrecy. 

One of the latest handsome buildings added 
to the structures of Vienna is a large Opera 
House, which has a very imposing facade, and 
is decorated with arches, porticos, arcades, and 
numerous pilasters. It is in the style of art 
termed the Renaissance^ which was revived 
by Raphael, and is less stiff than the ancient, 
but a modification of it. 

On Sundays Vienna looks like " a city de- 
populated by the plague; " for after mass the 
people rush out of town on excursions to the 
Prater, the suburbs, or still farther into the 
country. But a gentleman who, some years 
since, was staying here for a while, walked 
out on a Sunday afternoon, and says, — 

" In the court-yard of one house, into which 
I looked, I saw a little boy reading aloud from 
a book. He told me that he was eight' years 
old, and that he did this every Sunday. I 
took his book, and saw that he was reading 
the Gospel of St. Luke. He said it was the 
gospel for the day, and that many boys, in a 
similar manner, read the gospels on a Sunday 
before the houses of Vienna. When he had 
finished, there descended on him, from the 
upper stories, a grateful shower of kreuzers 
wrapped in paper." 




ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. 



245 




ADVENTITEES OP A WILD GOOSE. 

AN ORNITHOLOGICAL SKETCH BY A 
HUTSTTER-NATUBALIST. 



THE BIRD ISLANDS OF THE ARCTIC SEA. 

A STRANGER, I had visited the town of 
C, situated on one of the larger harbors 
of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, on a quest of 
some little difficulty, as it involved an unset- 
tled claim for marine insurance ; but I received 
a kindly welcome, and among the many pleas- 
ant acquaintances I there formed, none inter- 
ested me more than Major Orlebar. 

One of the younger sons of an old English 
family, he received a good education, and a 
commission in the army, and for some years, 
as a subaltern, led that life of genteel poverty 
■which has been the lot of so many of the 
"younger sons" of English gentlemen. At 
last a few short months of active service, and 
a day or two of sharp fighting, left him an 
open road to the majority, which had seemed 
so unattainable, and he returned to England, 
to fall in love with the daughter of the rector 
of his parish. 

With prompt decision he sold out his com- 
mission, married his loving though dowerless 
bride, and crossing the ocean, bought a half- 
cleared farm, and settled down as one of the 
" gentlemen farmers " of C. 

It is much to be doubted if the disapproval 
of his course, freely uttered by his relatives, 
was at all warranted ; his pay would never have 
been more than adequate to his own support 
in fitting style ; while the money received 
for his major's commission — some twenty 
thousand dollars — gave him at once a com- 
fortable home, a farm from which he could 



draw a fair yearly income, and a comparative- 
ly higher social position among the poor and 
uneducated colonists than he could have se- 
cured at home. 

At all events, I never saw a happier, more 
contented man than he was, when, ten years 
after, I met him, as an invited guest, amid the 
old-time pleasures and jocund festivities of 
an English Christmas. 

I can almost see that happy circle now, as 
after a furious game of " blindman's buff," we 
seated ourselves around the huge wood fire, 
where Yule logs of huge size crackled and 
blazed merrily, giving at once grateful warmth, 
and that flaring, changeful light so favorable 
to the enjoyment of story-telling. There were 
the major, with his grave, pleasant face ; his 
wife, with their eldest boy resting his curly 
head in her lap ; little May, climbing deftly to 
her fathei-'s knee; two young English girls, 
who had sought a home with their sister after 
the old rector's death, and were now, appar- 
ently, pretty certain of soon overseeing homes 
of their own — if one could judge by the ardor 
with which two young farmers of the neigh- 
borhood anticipated their slightest wish, and 
improved each opportunity which "ye Merry 
Christmas " is famous for affording to lover 
and maiden. 

"You promised us," said little May, "to 
tell us about the life of poor Senunk." 

" Perhaps, dear," said her father, " our 
older friends would prefer to hear something 
moi-e interesting than the simple story of the 
wanderings of a poor wingless goose." 

With one accord, all present averred that 
nothing would suit them better; and I must 
confess that, for my own part, I have seldom 
heard a tale that interested me more than this 
little bird romance of a true hunter-naturalist, 



246 



ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. 



and can only regret that my young friends 
could not have heard it from the same source. 

"You will all of you remember our pen of 
wild geese in the poultry-yard we visited to- 
day, and as I called particular attention to him 
— that wingless bird, which ate out of May's 
hand. It is the only specimen I have now 
living of the Brent Goose {Anser Berniclea)^ 
a species of bird very plentiful on this coast, 
and in which I take a great interest, both as 
furnishing unexcelled food and sport, and as a 
species whose young are hatched and reared 
where no living man has ever trod. 

" I have associated much with Senunk 
since the time I found him half frozen, with 
two broken wings, three years ago ; and for 
days in spring and fall he has imparted to 
me much knowledge of his tribe, and their 
habits, as we have watched together, seek- 
ing to decoy and slay his wild congeners. 
This is what Senunk has told me, on the icy 




floe, and amid the tangled reeds of the shal- 
low harbors : — 

" I was borne far to the northward in an 
ocean on which no sail ever glistened, and no 
oar or paddle ever measured, with sharp-smit- 
ing strokes, the swift course of boat or canoe. 
Our nest— for I had six brothers and sisters 
— was one of a myriad small, rocky islets, 
which rose far from any land in the midst of 
that mysterious sea ; our islet was very small, 
being, in fact, nothing but a water-worn rock, 
three faces of which were steep and jagged, 
while the fourth sloped gently down into the 
sea. It contained but three nests, those of 
my parents and grand-parents. 

"For the first few days I remember noth- 
ing, except that our parents brought us for 
food many sweet little shrimps, and other 
tiny mollusca, and at times, although more 
rarely, the tender marine plants which grow 
deep down in the sheltering waves, below the 



reach of frost. It was only after heavy gales 
that we could procure this sea-wrack, and we 
looked upon it as a great luxury ; for, as a 
general thing, we live only on vegetable food. 
" It was but a few days before we took our 
first lessons in swimming; and soon I found 
myself paddling clumsily around in the shal- 
lows, and eagerly gathering with my little 
bill the infusoria, or tiny insects, with which 
those northern waters, at certain seasons, 
may almost be said to be alive. I soon 
satisfied my hunger, however, and striving up 
the, to me, steep ascent of the shelving rock, 
I reached the highest point, from which I 
could survey the strange scene before me. 

"Around ine, in the shallow water, on the 
naked rocks, in the blue sky above, all was 
life, for the millions of our race seek this deso- 
late sea from the coasts and harbors of two 
continents. Every where the mother birds 
led their callow young over the shallows, or 
brought on swift wing some 
dainty morsel, picked up far 
^sr-^ beyond the reach of ouryouth- 

ful vision. The rocks above 
Z^ were crowded with nests, 

^=? for many young birds had 

- fallen behind in their north*- 

- ward migration, and their 
eggs, as a consequence, would 
not be hatched for some days ; 
while overhead, flocks of male 
birds were darting to and fro 
on long flights to far distant 
shores. 

" As I sat dreamily open- 
ing and shutting my eyes, I 
was suddenly disturbed by a sudden "whis-- 
s-sh of wings, a glimpse of a huge white bird, 
and a sudden shove which sent me head- 
long into the water twenty feet below. I 
plunged under, but coming to the surface, 
regained my balance and my breath, to find 
that I had been thus rudely sent overboard by 
my grandfather, who stood above, threatening 
with beak and wings a huge gull, who found 
himself balked of his intended supper, and 
was glad to retreat from the myriads of angry 
birds which immediately surrounded him. 

"This was but the commencement of a 
life of continual exposure to never-ceasing 
persecutions and ever-attendant peril. Some- 
times a huge falcon would descend into the 
midst of a young brood, and seizing a young 
goslin in his talons, would bear his victim 
away at a rate of speed which defied pursuit. 
Sometimes, as the water was covered with 
quietly-feeding birds, the stillness would be 



ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE 



247 



suddenly broken bj a loud splash, the flutter- 
ing of a new victim, and the roar of the 
wings, and discordant cries of the thousands 
of birds thus disturbed by the deadly rush of 
the Greenland shark. 

"At last my mother almost gave way under 
her constant anxieties. ' Let us leave this 
place,' said she, ' or I shall lose all my chil- 
dren.' At her words my grandfather turned 
and said gravely, — 

" ' For us, from the day of our birth amid 
these desolate rocks, and these mysterious 
seas, until the hour when we fall before animal 
craft or human wile, there is no peace, no 
sure safety. Here our numbers repel the pre- 
daceous birds, for the most part, 
and the few who fall a prey to 
shark and seal are generally vic- 
tims to their own want of cau- 
tion. All happiness and safety 
are comparative, and in these 
islet fastnesses we find a peaceful 
refuge denied us elsewhere.' 

" It was of no use, however, for 
my grandfather to talk, and be- 
sides, the food supply lessened as 
our numbers increased, and we 
were forced at last to seek anoth- 
er location, where there were not 
so many mouths to be fed. The 
families of my four grandparents 
numbered four old and twelve 
young birds, and our eight more, 
old and young, so that twenty 
of us were gathered together on 
the old home rock, the evening be- 
fore we flew away to commence, 
for the younger birds at least, a 
new and untried life. 

"It was late in August, and al- 
ready the nights were chill, and 
the winds, when they blew east or 
west, came laden with sleet and 
hail, while around our islets the"-** 
young sharp ice began to form, to be broken 
by the tough legs of our comrades, and 
ploughed through by huge chill icebergs, set 
loose by the autumnal gales from their gla- 
cial birthplace far away across the open 
sea. I shall never forget that evening, for 
the sun was low down near the horizon, and 
the soft south wind which had sprung up 
wafted the massy bergs gently from the shal- 
lows into the eddying currents of that warm 
tide, which flows from the tropics to the poles ; 
and as the white spires and snowy pinnacles 
gyrated slowly, tinted with a flood of crimson 
glory and refracted light, the surgeless eddies 



reflected, in ever-changing mockery, fantastic 
shadows of a scene whose beauty I can never 
forget. 

" But my grandsire, who, from his age and 
experience, was looked upon as the leader of 
our party, commenced conveying to us his 
final instructions for the next day's journey- 
ings. 

" ' We leave to-morrow,' said he, ' the only 
place of safety now left to our persecuted 
race. I see no alternative, for the supply of 
food will otherwise be inadequate to the wants 
of the younger broods. To-morrow we shall 
seek the shores of the main land, where new 
dangers will await us — the midnight attack of 




the arctic owl, the stealthy assault of the fox, 
and the clumsy cunning of the polar bear. 

" 'Trust only to continual vigilance, and a 
close attention to the counsels of your elders, 
and remember never to stray by land or water 
far from the main body, for it is with numbers 
alone that we can meet the talons and sharp 
beaks of our bloodthirsty enemies, the owl and 
falcon.' 

" I remember still that northern islet-studded 
sea, the father-land of our winged millions, 
as it looked when, in the early dawn, I gazed 
upon it for the last time. The huge isolated 
rocks, washed by the desolate sea ; the ever* 



hs 



ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. 



shifting icebergs gliding along in the distance 
like huge ships, to dash against each other, or 
be overwhelmed between the mighty surges 
and the outer cliffs of the archipelago ; the 
crowded masses of mother-birds with their 
joung broods upon the rockj slopes ; the 
countless thousands which fed and swam over 
the shallows, with the constant flight of large 
flocks to east, and west, and south, are still 
before my memory, and each returning spring 
brings back to each of our race a homesick 
longing which is almost irresistible. 

"But I thought little of what the future 
might have in store for me, and as, with a 
cry of farewell and encouragement, the older 
birds sprang into the air, their young followed, 
at first in a confused, disorderly rush, which 
gradually resolved itself into a sharply-defined 
and wedge-like phalanx, of which the eldest 
formed the point, and the youngest and weak- 
est the last on the diverging flank-lines. 

" It was nearly night when far ahead we saw 
before us the snow-covered cliffs, which stood 
on either side of the entrance of the harbor we 
were seeking ; but as the sun sank low down 
in the horizon, we rapidly neared our haven, 
sweeping down from our lofty flight between 
the sentinel cliffs, when from behind them 
rang a shrill scream, and in an instant a 
broad-winged falcon towered high above our 
trembling company. 

"'Alight, and face him with beak and 
wings,' shouted my grandsire, promply set- 
ting the example, which was followed by the 
rest, but too late ; for as the leading birds 
splashed into the water, my youngest brother, 
the last of the flock, fell dead among us, with 
his white breast-feathers crimsoned with the 
drops that oozed from his wounded brain. We 
had no resource but to leave his body to the 
triumphant butcher, who, with shrill screams, 
circled above us until we took wing, and flew 
into the strange haven, weary and sad at 
heart. 

" 'Behold, O my children,' said our grand- 
sire, ' a foretaste of the perils which await us. 
One victim has already fallen ; and on every 
hand you may hear the shrill bark of the arc- 
tic fox ; while over these shifting floes, alike in- 
different to the crash of icebergs or the over- 
whelming seas, roams the huge but noiseless 
and terrible polar bear. A watch must be kept 
by night and day, for the perils which are past 
are as nothing to the mortal dangers which lie 
before.' 

"Twice that night did our watchful elders 
warn us in season of the noiseless approach 
of the foxes, and as many times had we re- 



moved to more isolated ice-fields, until at last 
we were several miles from the shore. The 
full moon silvered berg, floe, and motionless 
sea, gilding even the barren and misshapen 
cliff with that softened radiance which gives 
to all things some share of unreal beauty. 
Resting on a small floe we slept, but the old 
birds by turns watched as anxiously as ever. 
I awoke with a sense of peril for which there 
was no apparent cause, for nothing was in 
sight but a few small fragments of floating 
ice, of varied shape, one of which was, if any- 
thing, a little more rounded than the rest. 

" One by one they came within our circle of 
attraction, and adhered to our floe. At last I 
missed the rounded fragment, but looking 
downward, saw with half-shut eyes a white 
mass shooting up from the depths of the sea. 
I heard the thrilling alarm-cry of our sentinel, 
as they broke into sudden foam, and a pair of 
armed jaws yawned below fiercely glaring eyes. 
A powerful blow swept among us, and the 
body of one of my companions, hurled along 
like a stone from a sling, struck just before me, 
and rebounding, flung me into the sea. 

" I was unhurt, however, and taking to flight, 
joined the flock, as, unwilling to desert our 
murdered companions, we wheeled with wild 
cries around the glittering berg, on which, as 
on a throne, huge, powerful, stealthy, and 
merciless, sat triumphantly devouring our lost 
ones, the monarch of the undiscovered sea, 
the ranger of the untrodden floes, the terrible 
polar bear. 

, "As we sought, in fear and sorrow, an iso- 
lated rock, which rose high with steep and 
shelving sides above the sea, I listened to the 
voices of my grieving companions, now re- 
duced in number to seventeen. Two of our 
leaders had fallen before that terrible paw : we 
were oi-phans." 




ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. 



249 



ADVENTUKES OF A WILD GOOSE. 

AN" OBJSriTHOLOGICAL SKETCH BY" A 
HUTyTTER-NATURALIST. 



PART II 



THE FLORIDA COAST. THE SPRING MIGRA- 
TION. 



I 



T was late in the month of November 
when we arrived at our winter quarters, 
on the eastern coast of Florida. On leaving 
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, where the myriads 
of our migrating hosts had rendezvoused, we 
crossed the great Tantramar marsh, lying be- 
tween Bay Verte and the head of the Bay of 
Fundy, and passed on, with little stay for 
food or rest, towards our southern destina- 
tion. 

"No heavy sea-fogs bewildered the sight 
of our leaders ; no heavy gales arose to chill 
and benumb the weak and infirm, and the 
boatmen of Cohasset and Cape Cod, and the 
gunners of Long Island, and Barnegat, and 
the Chesapeake, bewailed their lost time and 
useless weapons, as they saw, day by day, the 
mild, warm rays of the autumn sun gleam 
from a cloudless sky upon an unruffled sea, 
while we swept swiftly southward, far away 
from the treacherous shore, and its thousand 
perils, resting now and then on the ever- 
throbbing ocean, to sleep through the hours 
of darkness, or snatch a hasty meal, amid a 
floating bed of sea-wrack. 

"At last, diverging to the south-west, we 
saw the low, white outlines of Cape Carnav- 
eral, and passing inside of Cape Florida, the 
northern island promontory of the Florida 
Keys, we saw before us the shallow waters, 
low, verdant shores, and still lagoons of our 
winter home. No signs of the presence of 
man was visible, save the battered timbers of 
some long-stranded wreck, or the distant sail 
of "wrecker or fisherman. 

" At low tide, leagues of limestone, covered 
with a whitish ooze, from which sprang cluster- 
ing sponges and delicate corallines, lay be- 
tween the breaking surf and sloping sand- 
beaches of the inner islands and the main 
shore, which were strewn with millions of 
shells, of all shapes, colors, and sizes. With- 
in the tiny harbors, or rather lagoons, grew 
dense forests of white and black mangroves, 
which reared their tall trunks on arching 
roots, which raised them far above the oozy 
mud, into which their slender branches 
drooped, to be covered with clustering oys- 
ters, barnacles, and other shell-fish, around 
which, at high tide, gathered the delicious 



sheep's-head, sea-trout, mullet, rock-fish, and 
a score of other species of beautiful and de- 
licious sea-fish. 

" The shores were covered with ever-verdant 
herbage, and perennial shrubs, and plants, 
among which were conspicuous the impen- 
etrable thickets of Palmetto Royal, or Adam's 
Needle {yucca gloriosa). This curious plant 
was our great natural defence from the intru- 
sion of man, or of beasts of prey on our fa- 
vorite haunts. Properly an herbaceous plant, 
it at first presents but a cluster of long, nar- 
row, swoi-d-like leaves, of a perfect green, 
ending in a stiff, sharp point, with crenated 
edges. As it grows, however, it develops a 
ligneous stem, ten or twelve feet high, crowned 
with a chaplet of its annual foliage, and 
crested with a pyramid of bell-like blossoms, 
of a silver white, which, in their turn, give 
place to an edible purple fruit. 

"These plants lined the edges of the wood- 
ed upland with chevaux-de-frise, scarce pen- 
etrable by a bird or rat, and beyond them 
were reai-ed the pride of a Floridian forest, 
the blended beauties of the temperate and the 
torrid zones. There the cypress rose from the 
lower grounds, with the glossy-leaved tupelo, 
and the broad-armed sweet-bay, and near at 
hand the water-oak showered down its sweet- 
kerneled acorns, and the dwarf prickly pal- 
metto spread its fan-shaped leaves. Farther 
up were lofty broom pines, graceful magno- 
lias and kalmias, the green-leaved holly with 
its coral berries, and pines, and palms of many 
kinds, blending their varied foliage, in strik- 
ing but beautiful contrast, softened, some- 
what, by the weird, all-pervading drapery 
which the Spanish moss cast alike over mas- 
sive trunk and slender limb. By the limpid 
rivulets stretched verdant prairies, on whose 
borders the orange, shaddock, and lime cast 
their ungathered fruit, and the wild turkeys 
strutted and fed beneath the nut-laden hazels 
and chincapins. 

" On the broad marshes, lined with thick 
sedges and graceful, plume-tipped reeds, and 
among the mangrove flats and weed-choked 
shallows, we found an ample supply of food, 
among an innumerable multitude of other 
migrating birds. To enumerate even the 
names of the various species would weary 
your patience, and be beyond the scope of my 
recollection ; but that scene is never to be for- 
gotten. Vast flights of sea-fowl, that almost 
darkened the air, and covered the broad waters 
of the shallow lagoons, on whose borders 
stalked huge cranes, and herons, and bittern 
of many species, attended by hosts of ibis, 



ISO 



ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. 



curlew, gallinules, and other wading birds 
of gorgeous and striking plumage, among 
whom, here and there, appeared the tall form 
and vivid crimson feathers of the flamingo. 

"Myriads of sand-pipers and of plover 
gleaned the animalcula of the marsh ooze ; 
hosts of ducks and tiny teal whirred up from 
the thick sedges, and the sea-gulls and small 
tern gathered from their summer haunts, by 
the frozen seas, to the wilderness shores of 
this winterless land, and many an ocean 
rover, the sharp-billed gannet, the tireless 
frigate-bird, the fierce cormorant, and the ra- 
pacious shag, came from their 'ocean-cruising, 
to rest a while among the inundated jungles 
of the Everglades. 

" Yet life here was not without its dangers. 
Above us circled, in his lofty eyrie, the huge 
gray eagle, ever ready to strike a duck among 
the sheltering sedges, or bear the vainly-bleat- 
ing fawn from the side of its dam ; and weak- 
er, but no less to be feared, swooped from his 
lower eyrie his bold congener, and the less 
feared fishing-eagle ; while hawks of many 
kinds and varying powers of oifence gathered 
around the winged host, whose weaker mem- 
bers afli'orded many victims to their watchful 
enemies. 

" Still our life here was peaceful, on the 
whole, and our little flock of eight lost but 
one member during the entire winter. We 
were gathered one day in a shallow of the 
Shark's Head River, into which had fallen an 
ample supply of acorns from the oaks on the 
bank above. A bank of sedges shut us out 
from the river view, and the islet was small, 
and apparently untenanted. We were feeding, 
merrily conversing, as is our wont, when sud- 
denly a dead silence fell on all our company. 
Turning quickly to learn the cause, I saw 
above me, among the many-colored foliage, a 
terrific sight. A tall savage, clad in skins 
worked with many-hued beads, with his face 
painted in vivid patterns, and surmounted by 
a crest of waving feathers, crouched amid the 
leaves, levelling a heavy rifle. Even as my 
grandsire shook his pinions in flight, a puff 
of smoke, and a jet of fire shot from the fatal 
ambush, and the partner of his many wander- 
ings fell, pierced by the deadly bullet, and we 
saw, as we circled once above the fatal spot, 
the lifeless body seized by a gaunt hound, and 
borne into the treacherous ambush. 

"At last the spring came; and early in 
March we set out on our northward journey. 
Many changes had taken place in our flock, 
which was still under the direction of my 
widowed gi-andsire, but which had increased 



in number to twelve, owing to the mating of 
many of our number, — myself among the 
rest. The passion of love seemed to pervade 
all things at that season ; the deer mated be- 
side the rivulets, the turkeys called to each 
other in the forests, the thickets were vocal 
with the love-songs of the mocking-bird and 
the soft cooing of the ground-doves. Even 
the harsh gabble of the feathered tribes of 
ocean gave way to a soft, incessant murmur, 
inexpressibly mournful and weird to the voy- 
aging mariner, but speaking to us of a wealth 
of life and of love. Slowly we passed on 
northward, meeting ever with cold, sleety 
gales from the north and east, and constantly 
exposed to a thousand perils from the deadly 
marksmen, who watched for us on every mile 
of the long, low coast-line. 

" It was on the Chesapeake that misfortune 
first befell one of our number. My eldest sur- 
viving brother separated from us on the way 
northward, to attach himself to another flock, 
led by a young and inexperienced bird. Late 
in the night, both flocks alighted on some 
broad shallows, amid the thick sea-weed, be- 
ginning at dawn to feed amid the surround- 
ing herbage. The quick eye of my grandsire 
soon perceived a skiff, disguised with reeds, 
approaching, and while the danger was still 
distant, advised us to take to flight. 

" The leader of the other flock derided the 
idea. ' You have grown cowardly in your old 
age, old Gray-wing,' said he. ' I know to a 
yard the reach of their shot, and I shan't stir 
until he has paddled up to that point. By 
that time we shall have had breakfast, and 
shall fly off, leaving him to row back without 
a feather.' 

" ' I am afraid, it is true,' answered my rel- 
ative ; ' but I have been thirty years on the 
coast, and have heard of guns which can kill 
easily from the distance which you call safe. 
I shall work down the bay, and we must feed 
as we go. You had better follow.' 

" ' I have heard of and seen those ' ' stanchion 
guns," as they call them ; but that " float "is too 
small for anything but a light fowling-piece, 
or an old musket loaded with buck-shot; so 
trust to me, and we shall go northward, with 
a good laugh at yonder skulking gunner, and 
a better meal than our over-careful friends.' 

" As we swam steadily away, feeding a little 
here and there, but keeping the original dis- 
tance between us and the boat undiminished, 
I cast many anxious glances upon our thought- 
less friends, who continued to feed, in perfect 
security, until the boat had almost reached the 
prescribed limit, full two hundred yards away. 



ADVENTURES OF A WILD GOOSE. 



251 



I saw the young leader of the flock raise his 
head quickly, and give a warning cry, full of 
horrified dismay, as he gave the signal for 
flight. I saw their swift pinions beating the 
water into foam, in desperate flight, and then 
the slight disguise of withered grass was blown 
from the bows of the tiny boat by the heavy 
charge of shot belched forth by her tremen- 
dous swivel. Scarcely a bird escaped ; and as 
we, too, took flight in fear and sorrow, we laid 
to heart the new lesson we had received of 
the many wiles and tremendous destructive 
power of our great enemy, man. 

" 'I have faced the javelin of the Esquimaux, 
the arrow of the Indian, the far-reaching bul- 
let and thick-flying shot of the white hunter, 
and have escaped a thousand wiles and snares ; 
but I know the day will come when even my 
sagacity will fail, and I shall fall before the en- 
emies of my race.' 

"Thus spoke my grandsire as I flew by his 
side, two nights later, beneath a brilliant moon, 
along the southern shore of Cape Cod. He 
spoke sadly, almost despairingly ; but I dreamed 
not how soon his forebodings of disaster were 
to be verified. A few hours later, in the early 
dawn, we entered a wide haven, whose narrow 
channels flowed amid broad expanses of shal- 
low water, densely covered with our favorite 
food. 

" After feeding some hours, we saw at a little 
distance a sandy bar, on which the rising tide 
gradually encroached. On its highest point 
rose a square rock hung with weeds, and a 
number of birds of our own kind swam and 
fed in the adjacent shallows, and answered 
our calls, evidently wishing us to join them. 
The place seemed suitable to dry our feathers, 
and procure a little gravel and clean sand ; and 
we were soon in their midst, feeding, chasing 
each other, and pluming our displaced feath- 
ers on the dry bar. As the tide came in, we 
retreated higher, until we were scarcely thirty 
yards from the rock. Then the fatal ambus- 
cade was disclosed, the decoy birds were pulled, 
screaming and flapping, from among us, by 
means of concealed cords ; and, as heavy and 
repeated volleys thundered in my ears, I felt a 
sudden shock, sharp pains, and I became sense- 
less. 

"When I came to myself, I was in the hands 
of a man who, with . two others, sat in the 
cunningly-constructed ' blind,' so fatal to my 
doomed companions. 

" ' They are all dead except this one ; and he 
has both wings broken,' said he. ' Shall we 
save him for a decoy ? ' 

"All agreed to this; and the shattered tips 



of my wings being amputated, I was trained, 
and finally sent as a gift to my present master. 
I have since lured many to destruction ; for 
my longing for love and companionship, and 
the unforgotten glories of the Arctic Sea, come 
upon me with each returning spring, as I 
see my happier kindred sweeping northward 
through the free path of heaven, and I cannot 
resist the desire of meeting them once more, 
though I know I call them beneath the deadly 
shower of mitraille that has spared me thus 
far ; although I know that, like my race, I, too, 
shall fall by the hand of man." 

The narrator ceased as the clock struck mid- 
night, and our happy party was over. A few 
years later, I met Major Orlebar in St. John, 
N. B., and asked him if he still possessed his 
wingless Brent goose. He answered, with a 
slight tinge of real sadness in his tone, — 

" Poor Senunk was a sad loss to me, for I 
had watched him so much in our May days to- 
gether, on the ice-floes, that he became very 
tame, confiding, and useful. I left him one 
day for a few moments, and on my return 
heard a gun fired near my boat. A dandy of- 
ficer of the garrison, who was remarkable for 
his ridiculous sporting misadventures, had 
capped the climax of his stupidity by shooting 
my decoy-bird, thus ending the strange Ad- 
ventures OF A Wild Goose." 




252 



REMINISCENCES OF WEST AFRICAN LIFE. 




A SoNNiNKEE Court of Justice. Page 255. 



EEMINISOENOES OF WEST AEKIOAN 
LIFE. 



BY EDWARD DUSSEAULT, JR. 



SONNINKEE 
JUSTICE. 



COUBT OF 



TT^ROM the early part of 1864 to the latter 



r 



part of 1873, I resided in Western Africa. 



I became familiar with the Mandingo lan- 
guage, and understood Jollof and Serra-Ouli 
well enough to suit my purpose as a trader. 
Most of my time was passed at a considerable 
distance from the seaboard, and some two 
hundred miles from the nearest white man. I 
was often obliged to conform to the habits 
and customs of the blacks; ate and drank with 
them, slept beneath the same roof, and joined 
them in their pastimes and excursions. I had 
to be careful not to shock their religious feel- 
ings, and, above all, never to mention the 
name of Mohammed save with profound re- 
spect ; and I have often overheard a stalwart 
African express the wish that the Christian 
dog, whom their chief was entertaining, were 
not a guest, and, as such, entitled to their pro- 
tection, and some consideration. All seemed 
to vie with each other, at certain times, in 
their endeavors to exaspei-ate me by insults, 



expecting to succeed in making me lose my 
temper and strike them ; and it often took the 
utmost self-possession, on my part, not to 
retaliate upon them. 

I resided principally in that section of the 
country Avatered by the Gambia and Senegal, 
am well acquainted with the former from its 
mouth upwards, and am just as much at home 
floating on the surface of its limpid waters, as 
I should be if it had been my birthplace. 

I do not purpose now to give a minute de- 
scription of either of these streams, though I 
may hereafter be tempted to do so. But I 
merely wish to refer to a few of my own remi- 
niscences, and to illustrate, by an incident in 
which I was one of the principal actors, the 
prodigious memory which is sometimes dis- 
played by the better class of Africans. Here, 
let me say, at once, that I am by no means a 
follower of Dr. Hunt, formerly, if not now, 
president of the Anthropological Society of 
London, who gained an unenviable notoriety 
by publishing his address, before that society, 
on " The Negro's Place in Nature" wherein 
he declares him to be an anthropoid ape. For 
I believe the negroes, even the true negroes 
as defined by him, to be something more than 
apes, and that they are endowed with some- 
thing more than mere instinct. True, they 



REMINISCENCES OF WEST AFRICAN LIFE. 



253 



but rarely exhibit any great amount of intelli- 
gence, but they have a sort of low, native 
cunning, which goes far towards making them 
difficult to trade with ; and he who carries with 
him an exaggerated idea of their inferiority, 
is sure to get the worst of a bargain. 

In the region of the Upper Gambia, various 
classes of blacks are met with. Mandingos, 
Jollofs, Accons, Serraoulis, Foulahs, Fonta- 
Foulahs, Taurankas, Ouasoloonkas, Kroumen, 
and many others, all vie here, with low cun- 
ning, " grave deceit and paltry cheat," to gain 
our dollars. Their religions and customs are 
in many respects different, and in some cases 
entirely so. The Mohammedan religion, how- 
ever, predominates, and its devotees are here 
called Marabouts — a name given to none but 
priests by the Arabs, but indiscriminately ap- 
plied here to all Mohammedans. The pagans 
— those having no religion, unless the most 
superstitious Fetish practices can be called 
such — are here called Sonninkees. They are 
not only lovers of ardent spirits, but generally 
drunkards. Hence the word Sonninkee has 
got to mean a drinker of intoxicating liquors. 
The latter are the rightful owners of the soil, 
but the Mohammedans are fast gaining the 
supremacy over all others; and they will, no 
doubt, soon subjugate all who are now opposed 
to their rule up to the source of the river. 

Having been the best supplied trader in the 
Upper Gambia, I became intimately acquainted 
with these blacks, and had ample opportuni- 
ties to study their character and customs. My 
knowledge of the Mandingo language, which 
is almost universally understood in this region, 
assisted me very much to establish intimate 
relations with them ; and, consequently, I have 
often witnessed, very often been the principal 
actor in, many an incident, which, if properly 
related, would prove interesting to the gen- 
eral reader; and it i« with the hope of suc- 
ceeding to do this that I have undertaken to 
relate some of my Reminiscences of West Af- 
rican Life. 

In November, traders proceed up this river 
(the Gambia), land goods along its banks, 
and there remain with them, during the dry 
season, to barter them against pi'oduce, which 
consists chiefly of groundnuts (generally 
called j)ea7iuts in the United States), very 
few of which are shipped here, the greater 
part being shipped to France and England, 
where their oil is expressed, and called olive 
oil. Nearly all the salad oil used in this coun- 
try is groundnut oil, there being but very 
little, if any, olive oil used for salad here, or 
even in France. 



Now, it very often happens that a dispute 
arises between rival traders, which has to be 
settled by the king, or one or more of his 
chiefs ; and it is well worth one's while to be 
present, during a civil suit, in a Sonninkee 
court of justice. I became involved in one 
of these suits in 1865. I was at my factory at 
Yabu-Tenda, in the kingdom of Ouli, at the 
head of navigation for small crafts. The trad- 
ing season was drawing to a close, it being 
during the first half of May, which is the last 
month of the season. I had caused to be 
measured, on my account, a quantity of ground- 
nuts (eleven thousand bushels), had paid for 
them, and nothing remained but to transport 
them to my stores. But, before I had com- 
menced transporting them, they were claimed 
by another trader, who said that the holders 
had agreed to sell them to him, when he first 
came up, at the commencement of the season, 
and that, on the strength of this agreement, 
he had made them many valuable presents. 
He wished me to give up the nuts, upon his 
giving me the same amount as I had paid for 
them, in the same kind of goods that I had 
given. I, of course, refused ; and he referred 
the matter to the king of Ouli (Juma I.), and 
the latter appointed a day (the 21st of May, 
1S65), when we were both to be at his capital, 
Medina, with all our witnesses. He said that 
he would then summon his court, and that he 
would preside and decide in person upon the 
merits of the case. This arrangement was 
formally agreed to both by the plaintiff and 
myself on the 12th, and we therefore had 
nine days before us, he to decide upon his 
mode of attack, and I upon my mode of de- 
fence. We both had ample time for this, as 
neither of us was busy, the whole crop having 
been bought by the traders, who were only 
waiting for vessels to ship both themselves 
and their produce. 

The preliminaries of these trials are always 
expensive, as both plaintiff and defendant vie 
with each other in making presents to the 
king and his head men, expecting thus to gain 
the sympathy of the court. The plaintiff dis- 
tributed his presents with a recklessly lavish 
hand, and I had some misgivings as to the 
result of our dispute. One circumstance, how- 
ever, was in my favor. The plaintiff was a 
strict Mohammedan, whereas the king of Ouli 
is a Sonninkee. They were, therefore, ene- 
mies, and a small present from mc would go 
as far towards influencing the king as a com- 
paratively large one from my friend the plain- 
tiff". I felt certain that, so long as tiio plain- 
tiff did not overcome his scruples and give 



254 



REMINISCENCES OF WEST AFRICAN LIFE. 



the king rum, — as he had done on another 
and similar occasion, — I was all right, and 
had every reason to believe that I would receive 
impartial justice at his (the king's) hands. 
But knowing well, to my cost, the elasticity 
of a Mohammedan's conscience, I feared that 
rum would be used, and endeavors made to 
intoxicate the king, and to keep him drunk. 
In that case judgment would have to be pro- 
nounced, and justice meted out by the head 
man for war (Kalley Oualley), who was a no- 
torious and unprincipled old drunkard, whom 
the plaintiff had succeeded in making his 
friend. Having, however, finally settled in 
my own mind what to do, and what presents 
to give, I decided to await events. I therefore 
sent them (the presents) to the king and his 
head men, who told my messenger to assure 
me that I need not fear the result of the trial, 
as every member of the court was on my side, 
and determined that I should retain the nuts 
in question. I had no doubt that the same 
message had been sent to the plaintiff, who, 
hy the by, was called Samba Raser. 

Medina, the capital, where the king held his 
court, is a good ten hours' ride, at a brisk 
walk, from the nearest point of the river's 
bank, which is Fatta-Tenda ; and this latter 
place is five hours' ride from Yabu-Tenda, 
where I was stationed. I pass over this little 
journey (although it was an eventful one to 
me), as it has no connection with the subject 
of this paper ; and I therefore reserve an ac- 
count of it for another number. I must add, 
however, that I suffered some indignities at 
the hands of some Mohammedans, — amongst 
whom was Samba Easer, — during this jour- 
ney to Medina, which enraged the king, put 
him altogether in my favor, and resulted in 
the imprisonment of these Mohammedans, 
together with Samba Easer. Daybreak, the 
17th May, 1S65, found me within three miles 
of the capital, winding my way through a 
thick growth of stunted trees, and we passed 
a human hand sticking out of the ground, 
and appearing as though a human arm had 
been planted there. It was the hand of a 
Greeot, who had died the day before, and been 
thus buried with one hand sticking out of his 
grave. Greeots' bodies, in most other places, 
are put into the hollow of a large baobab, and 
they are allowed no other kind of burial. 

A little after five o'clock A. M., we emerged 
from the forest upon the finest and most fertile 
plain I ever was on in Africa. Every tree 
capable of sheltering an enemy had been cut 
down ; and it formed almost a circle fully two 
miles in diameter. In its centre is the strongly- 



stockaded town of Medina, the capital of Ouli. 
I pulled up my horse and stopped to admire 
the scene before us. They had had rain here 
the day before, and, consequently, the plain 
was covered with people, preparing the ground 
to receive the seed for the next crop of corn, 
while the chiefs were riding about, urging 
them to work faithfully ; and I looked upon 
the nearest approach to civilized life which I 
had ever seen in the region of the Upper 
Gambia. We presently moved slowly towards 
the stockade, whilst the dogs yelped, and the 
children, and even some of the women and 
slaves, ran away at sight of a white man. We 
were soon accosted by one of the king's sons, 
— a boy whom I had frequently met before, — 
who told me that the king was anxious about 
me. He led us to the king's residence inside 
of the stockade, and motioned us to a seat on 
the bantang, before the door. In a few mo- 
ments the king ai-rived, perfectly sober, and 
graciously received us, with a very patronizing 
air. Then, after interchanging a few com- 
monplace remarks, he told me to ask a man, 
whom he pointed out to me, for anything that 
I might want, and then retired, saying that he 
would see me again during the day. 

I had another interview with the king that 
day, and dined at seven. Being weary, I soon 
retired to rest, but got very little sleep, on ac- 
count of the noise kept up all night by the 
Sonninkees, most of whom were drunk and 
quarrelsome. The stench of alcohol was al- 
most intolerable ; and I was glad, when morn- 
ing came, to go outside of the stockade, to 
roam among the farms. The men and women 
working upon them soon familiarized them- 
selves with the appearance of the white 
stranger, and plied me with questions, while 
the children followed me about, stared at me 
with wonder, and remarked to each other 
that my skin looked like pork. The rest 
of the time, up to the trial, was passed in 
this way, and in shooting in the vicinity; 
and I fattened on venison and other choice 
game. 

The morning of the 20th, Salum Jarta ar- 
rived, with the other members of the court; 
and at about nine o'clock P: M. Samba Easer, 
the plaintiff in my palaver, was marched in 
as a prisoner, his elbows bound together be- 
hind his back, and guarded by Sonninkees, 
with draAvn cutlasses, with which they occa- 
sionally pricked him, to hurry him along. He 
was mocked and jeei'ed at by every native 
present; and one could not help pitying him 
who, yesterday, was the most influential Serra- 
ouli in Ouli, as he stood there, securely bound. 



REMINISCENCES OF WEST AFRICAN LIFE, 



255 



the jeer and laughing-stock of the slaves, who 
grinned and stared at him. 

The night was passed pleasantly on the 
bantang. Salum Jarta had succeeded in per- 
suading the king to keep rum out of the court 
until after the palavers to come before him 
should be settled. Every one, therefore, was 
sober. The principal men of Ouli were here, 
appearing at their best, and Salum entertained 
us with amusing stories, told as he alone 
in all Ouli could tell them, and some of which 
I would try to repeat here, if I but had the 
space. No one, who could have heard this 
great master of the Mandingo language on 
that occasion, could, for a single instant, doubt 
the humanity of the negro, or ever after rank 
him as an anthropoid ape. At length we 
gradually stretched ourselves, one by one, on 
the bantang, and were soon all asleep. The 
night was cool, there were no mosquitos 
(they are rare away from the banks of the 
river), and all noise had been prohibited with- 
in a certain distance of the king's residence. 

The next morning, at about five o'clock, I 
was summoned to the court; and I soon per- 
ceived that the day was to be observed as a 
holy day in the Sonninkee capital. The Son- 
ninkees were all clad in their war costumes, 
covered with gregrees, and armed from head 
to foot. It was a beautiful day, not very 
warm, and the morning air ^as refreshing. I 
at once proceeded to the large tree, half a mile 
outside of the stockade, where the court had 
already assembled, and a seat was assigned 
me near Salum Jarta. The king sat in the 
centre of the group on a leopard's skin, and 
was dressed in white ; while the chiefs were in 
their full war costumes, and all armed with 
musket and cutlass. An armed crowd of up- 
wards of two thousand Sonninkees sat on the 
ground, at a distance of not more than ten 
paces, in front of the court. Samba Easer's 
witnesses were all called, and then mine ; and 
all having answered to their names, the plain- 
tiff was told to make a statement of his case. 
He had been temporarily released from his 
bonds, and, for the time, allowed full liberty 
of speech. As he proceeded, a Sonninkee re- 
peated his words in a loud voice, that all the 
court might hear and understand. His wit- 
nesses were then examined, and their evidence 
repeated in the same manner as his statement 
had been, word for word. When his witnesses 
had all been thus examined, I was called upon 
to. make my statement, and I made it to the 
Sonninkee, who repeated it, as he had done 
Samba Easer's. Then my witnesses were ex- 
amined in the same way, getting through by 



eight o'clock. By this time I began to be dis- 
gusted with the proceedings; for neither the 
king nor the chiefs seemed to pay any atten- 
tion at all to the trial, and they all looked as 
though they would like to go to sleep. I felt 
certain that none of them knew a word of 
what had been said. 

At length, after an uninterrupted silence, 
Kalley Oualley straightened up and began to 
address the court: and, as he proceeded, I 
could not help looking at him with astonish- 
ment. This man, who had appeared drowsj-^, 
perfectly indifferent, half asleep, and stupid, 
now appeared a totally different being. He, 
the dirtiest, filthiest old drunkard in Ouli, 
now, for a wonder, sober, repeated the Avhole 
testimony on both sides almost word for word, 
made judicious remarks upon the character of 
the different witnesses who had been examined, 
and wound up in an eloquent appeal to the 
king not to allow the whites to have it all 
their own way, but to teach them, by a fitting 
example, that their black brethren were inen, 
as well as they; and that they would not be 
allowed to impose upon his subjects on his 
soil, and in their country. He was listened 
to with the greatest attention and admira- 
tion. His gestures were graceful, and his 
language w^ell chosen, and, time and circum- 
stances taken into consideration, polished and 
elegant. The thought that this eloquent sav- 
age was the filthiest old drunkard I had ever 
seen anywhere, was almost a painful one. All 
the chiefs surprised me, in their turn, by their 
remarkable and truly astonishing memory ; 
but none exhibited anything more than mere 
memory, save Kalley Oualley, until Salum 
Jarta's turn came. He always spoke last at all 
palavers, and never but once. Like the others, 
he summed up the evidence on both sides ; he, 
furthermore, analyzed every sentence having 
any bearing on the case, and gave his reasons 
clearly why he accepted or rejected this or 
that witness's evidence. He \\ound up with 
an appeal to the king to protect the interests 
of his kingdom, and endeavored to show that 
the best way for him to do so was to protect 
the white trader. In conclusion, he asked that 
I be permitted to keep the produce in ques- 
tion, and that the plaintiff be compelled to 
pay for its transportation to the place of ship- 
ment to Bathurst. 

During all this time the king had sat, reclin- 
ing against the tree, apparently asleep ; but, 
as soon as Salum had finished, he aroused 
himself, and began at once to sum up, not 
the evidence, but the remarks of his chiefs, 
passing in review their respective opinions. 



256 



REMINISCENCES OF WEST AFRICAN LIFE 



He dwelt particularly upon the remarks of 
Kalley Ouallev and Salum Jarta, and especial- 
ly those of the latter. He then gave his judg- 
ment, which was, that I, the defendant, be 
allowed to keep the produce in question, and 
which I had bought and paid for; and that the 
plaintiff be compelled to pay me suitable dam- 
ages for the time I had lost in preparing for 
and attending this trial, said damages to be de- 
termined by three arbitrators, whom he named. 
He explained that there could not possibly 
be any case against me, although there might 
have been one against those who sold me the 
nuts. It appeared evident, and it had been 
proved to his satisfaction, that the plaintiff 



had endeavored to take advantage of his (the 
king's) stranger, forgetting that he himself, 
though black, was also a stranger, being a 
Serra-ouli. For this he must pay a fine often 
slaves, or their equivalent. He then, imme- 
diately, sent one of his sons to seize the goods 
of the plaintiff, with instructions not to re- 
turn anything to any one before he was satis- 
fied that all the claims arising out of this trial 
had been fully settled. 

Thus ended my trial at this court on this 
occasion ; and six days after this, I was back 
at Yaba-Tenda, shipping away my goods and 
produce to Bathurst. 




AA^ 



M/ 



/^ 



ASHES OF ROSES, 



2S7 




GOOD Parson Meek, in name and nature 
kin, 
The friend of virtue and tiie foe of sin, 
In thoughtful mood, by the mellowing light 
Of a cosy fire, one Saturday night, 
On an oft-turned text a sermon wrought, 
Rich in expression and sound in thought. 
Spreading it forth in the steady glow 
That warmed his brain and made easj' flow 
Of crowded ideas there, ripe to season 
His chosen theme, with discursive reason. 
Appeared on the ruddy-tinted heat, 
As if traced with the pen on a spotless sheet. 
At the love of riches, the pomp of show. 
The parson led off with a weighty blow; 
At senseless fashion and fickle pleasure 
He pommelled away in unstinted measure. 
On speculation and ten per cents, 
On corners in gold and usurious rents, 
On trickish traffic and knavish zeal, 
Indignantly wrathful, he set his heel, 
Declaring gold the seal of the devil. 
And the love of riches the root of evil. 
Thus preached the parson in wrath and ire 
That Saturdaj' night to his cheerful fire. 

Now, Parson Meek was by no means poor 

In purse or person ; his study floor 

With "Brussels" was spread, and rich and 

rare 
Were the books and pictures gathered there. 
His house was a model of elegant rest; 
His table was spread with the choicest and 

best; 
His church was the grandest money could rear. 
His salary over ten thousand a year; 
His parish was wealthy, and weekly flocked 
In the gayest fashions, at which he mocked. 
For pomp and vanity, riches and pride, 
Far reach, far search, on every side. 
Ne'er could be found so fruitful a source 
For subject to furnish a rich discourse 
Than the congregation of once a week 
In the frescoed church of Parson Meek. 



Yet the parson faltered, and felt a shock. 
When he turned his thoughts towards his flock, 
And the full effects of his fierce onslaught 
Full and clear to his mind were brought; 
For Brother Blank and Deacon Dash 
In copper stocks had mined their cash. 
And Mrs. Zero and sister Nought 
To lead the fashions long had fought; 
And 'twas far from wise to strike a blow 
That might "boomerang" his overthrow. 
Perhaps he thought of generous hearts, 
Hidden away under worldly arts. 
That wrought much good his parish round. 
Where the suffering poor were often found — 
That flung deep purses at want's demands. 
Into misery's lap witli lavish hands. 
Perhaps his logic found method wherebv 
His church might pass through the needle's 

eye, 
With riches and worth, and goodness and pride 
Qi^iite evenly balanced on either side. 
Whatever the thought, the current turned ; 
No longer indignant his spirit burned, 
As he sought a text with a milder ring, 
Home to his people some lesson to bring. 
His zeal 'gainst riches had cooler grown, 
And that sermon was preached to the fire alone 

Now, on this self-same Saturday- night. 

Fire arose in his crafty might. 

The slave of man threw off his j'oke, 

From fettering chains defiant broke. 

And stealthily seizing the sceptre of power, 

The tyrant master ruled the hour. 

With a sneer at the parson's faltering heart. 

Reckless assuming the preacher's art. 

He wrought a sermon so strong and clear, 

That a crowded city quaked with fear, 

And they whom fortune favored most 

Awoke from their dreams to see its ghost 

Vanish in flame. Rich spoils of trade, 

In many a strong-walled fortress laid ; 

Vast stores from far-oft" Eastern lands; 

Wealthy productions of gifted hands; 



iSS 



ASHES OF ROSES. 



Cunning machines, hy craftsmen reared, 
In his greedy jaws quick disappeared. 




Whom friendly counsel held alonf 

From the crushing blows of his falling roof. 

And grand old churches, massive and graj', 

The gospel's sentries along the way, 

Reared in love and baptized in prayer. 

With passports of faith to a land more fair. 

Our blessed symbols of trust in God, 

Cowered beneath the fiery rod ; 

And merchant palaces far and wide, 

Towering in beauty, the city's pride. 

Prosperity's roses in gardens of trade, 

By his blasting breath in ashes wer.; laid. 

Then, glutted with spoils, in sudden wrath 

He sped away on his fiery path, 

And dashed with a roar into labor's nest, 

Where, home returned for Sunday rest, 

The wearied toiler nobly strove 

To keep gaunt want from his home of love; 

Merciless crawled on the rotting floor. 

And snatched the crust from the starving poor ; 

With fiery fingers beckoned on 

The aged man from his homestead torn, 

Who sought to return, and meet his death 

In the house where first he drew his breath. 

Whom friendly counsel held aloof 

From the crushing blows of his falling roof. 

Up and away on the rushing wind. 



Terror before and blackness behind, 
Heavy smoke clouds roll across the sky, 
Hissing brands in lliick battalions fly, 
Sh»:velled rafters seething writhe and crawl, 
Blasted walls in wild confusion fall. 
Dragging down to a horrible death. 
Stifling their outcries with blistering breath, 
The fearless and brave who strove with might, 
To be crushed at last in unequal fight. 
Ah, many a wife, in slumbers secure. 
Shall weep for the mate who comes no more, 
And many a mother miss from her side 
The joy of her heart, its love and pride, 
And many a home in confident rest 
This night shall rob of its dearest and best. 

Hard was the struggle that Sabbath day 
To keep the fiery pest at hay, 
While sickening fear and wild unrest 
Pierced and tortured the anxious breast; 
But stalwart heroes lashed and beat 
The snarling fiend in his last retreat, 
Till crushing blows and smothering rain 
Drove the slave to his chains again. 




Climbs to the chamber of innocent rest, 
Wakens the mother and babe on her breast. 




W R E C K E D 



ASHES OF ROSES. 



261 



Up, up once more when the night comes down, 
With thundering roars and a flaming frown, 
He breaks from liis prison and sallies out, 
Torture and terror to scatter about. 
Recklessly dashes frail barriers through, 
And on, dashes on to destruction anew, 




For there is his fate, and he turns aside 
As the door from its stubborn hold is pried. 



Sports with rich treasures of silver and gold, 
Drags from their slumbers the j'oung and the 

old, 
Climbs to the chamber of innocent rest. 
Wakens the mother and babe on her breast. 
Then fiercer and faster dashes along, 
His revel of ruin to further prolong. 
But all in vain ; the steady strokes down fall. 
And well-poised weapons nail him to the wall. 



While watchful guards the terror hold secure. 
Once more he's conquered, and the battle's o'er. 

Ashes of Roses I Beauty lies crushed; 
Into our garden the whirlwind has rushed. 
Blasting the garners of riches and pride. 
Breaking the strength that misfortune defied. 
Rending warm life from the hopeful and brave. 
Shrouding our joys with the gloom of the 

grave. 
Over the reeking and desolate scene 
The moon in full glory up rises serene. 
Through drifting smoke clouds stray beams 

fitful fall 
On broken arch, on black and splintered wall. 
Strange watch fires flick and glow along the 

street ; 
The trusty guard patrols his measured beat, 
And tap of drum, quick tramp, and stern com- 
mand 
Proclaim the presence of a martial band. 
While far and wide a people sick in sorrow, 
Anxiously wait the coming of to-morrow. 

To-morrow! ah, yes, it will bring relief, 
Though its coming perchance be fraught with 

grief; 
For under the embers lie riches in store 
The anxious merchant hastes to secure, 
While doubt and fear assail his breast. 
As the safe is torn from its fiery rest; 
For there is his fate, and he turns aside 
As the door from its stubborn hold is pried; 
For there are treasures to rear more fair. 
Or dust and ashes to bring despair. 
To-morrow may bring to the trouble-tost 
Glad tidings of joy from the loved and lost; 
To-morrow may bring hope's cheery beam, 
And out of the darkness warm light stream; 
For all is not lost while honor survives. 
And success oft journey's with him who strives. 
To-morrow beauty from ashes shall spring. 
And labor's hammer right merrily ring. 
And the fiery whirlwind, fierce and vast, 
Hurried away in the mouldering past. 





TRINITY CHURCH AFTER THE FIIM:. 
Sketches amid the ruins of the Boston Fire, by Miss L. B. Hu.MriiHKY. 



